Damage Control
by TheJesusFreak777
Summary: George Weasley thought he would never be the same after his brother's death. That is, until he has a plan to pretend nothing ever really happened, and when he meets January Watson, a clever, intelligent Muggle, who he finds he can be himself around. Secrets arise, and George realizes he knows less and less about Fred and the only thing he can do is brace himself for the damage.
1. Prologue

A/N: **I'm not really into Tempest right now...**  
Prologue

The red haired boy walked into the crowded pub from the drenched, raining avenue outside. He had a knitted gray cap over his ears and a black trench coat that shadowed most of his face. The collar was flipped up, successfully covering everything up to his nose. The only distinguishable characteristic of him was the bright red hair sticking out from under his cap.

The few by the door glanced at him and fell silent. The quietness spread like a disease to the others in the pub, and soon everyone was quiet, gazing at him.

He nodded to a young man wearing a Puddlemere United Quidditch robe. Neither spoke, and the red haired boy sat at a table by himself. Gradually the pub grew back to its normal volume. No one dared talk to the shadowed boy, but many glanced over at him worriedly.

A waitress bustled over after a quarter of an hour with a piece of parchment. "What will it be, uh, Mr. Weasley?"

The boy straightened his collar and folded it down, revealing a scared face. A long gash came down from under his cap to his cheekbone, scabbed over. His nose was slightly crooked, and his eyes were dark and kept flicking over the room. If it were not for the scars, he would have been handsome. He sat with a slight slouch and made a great effort to sit up and look up at the waitress. He tried for a smile, but it only made the blemishes seem more ghastly. "Firewhiskey, Madam Rosmerta."

"I'm not supposed to sell that to wizards under twenty," she informs him. "Very strong, that stuff is."

"What if I told you I was nineteen, and I would pay a Galleon more for it?" Mr. Weasley bargained. He pulled off his cap, revealing a neat hole in the side of his head where his ear should be.

"A whole Galleon? Well, all right, I suppose so..." She cast him one last look before slipping back behind the bar, half-intrigued and half-fearful. She emerged with a maroon bottle and sat it down in front of him.

"Thank you, Madam Rosmerta."

"Quite fine, Mr. Weasley."

"Take a seat, Rosmerta. I'd be glad to have some company."

"I really must get to work," she spluttered.

"The other waitress-Rosemary, your daughter?-seems to have it taken care of," Weasley says smoothly. And it was true. A young, pretty witch dressed in dark blue cloaks was taking orders.

"Very well," Rosmerta agrees reluctantly. "What is it you wish to speak about?"

The boy did not reply at first. He opened the bottle and poured a shot before swallowing it, wincing at the taste. "Burns down your throat," he comments. He wipes his chin with his sleeve.

"Why do you come?" Rosmerta burst out. "Why do you come to Hogsmeade, acting like nothing happened at Hogwarts? Why do you wear Muggle clothes? Why do you buy Zonko's, live in the apartment above, but never open a store? Why do you expect me to sell you drinks illegal to one your age?" She covered her mouth with a jeweled hand, looking horrified that she'd said all that.

Weasley removed his trench coat, revealing a black cloak-much more wizarding clothes-and draped it across his chair. Scars crisscrossed the skin visible above the neckline. He took a long drink straight from the bottle and smiled, baring white teeth at her.

"You don't know what happened at Hogwarts. You were bewitched anyway. I saw what happened at Hogwarts." His voice was hard and his eyes blazed. "As far as I'm concerned nothing happened at Hogwarts!"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley-"

"Do not act like you know what it's like to be under the Cruciatus Curse, because I can assure you, Madam Rosmerta, it is not fun."

"Is that a threat?"

"Is it?" the boy retorted disdainfully. "You tell me."

"I will tell the Ministry officials," Rosmerta warned.

"I'm not threatening you," he snapped. "How do you think I came across these?" He pointed at the various scars on his face. "Think I just tripped, do you?"

"I remember you," Rosmerta says after a long pause. "I remember you and your brother, shooting fireworks willy-nilly and dropping Dungbombs everywhere! I remember when you two would come down from Hogwarts and cause all sorts of trouble."

Pain flashed in the boy's eyes. "Don't talk about him."

"I remember Fred," she continued. "I couldn't tell you two apart. It's only been what, three months?"

"Shut your mouth, you old hag!" Weasley shouted, hitting the table with his fist. Everyone went quiet and stared. The one in the Puddlemere United robes gazed up, an anguished look on his face.

"I don't have a twin," the boy said softly. "I never did."

Puddlemere United stood up and walked over. "C'mon, George," he says softly, tapping his shoulder. "Come on. You need to get back to Zonko's."

"Get off me, Oliver!" George snarled, shaking him away.

"George, you need to get back to Diagon Alley, and you know it. Fred would want you to go back and keep up your store-"

George jerked away from Oliver and stood, pulling his trench coat on and stomping out of the silent pub, slamming the door as he went. Oliver flinched and pulled his robe on tighter. He trifled through his pockets and handed Rosmerta several coins. "For the firewhiskey," he said distractedly before heading out the pub. He raced down the street, catching sight of George. "You can't just do that," Oliver snapped.

"Do what?" he hissed back.

"Act like every witch and wizard from here to Salem owes you!" Oliver said angrily.

"Maybe they do! Maybe they owe Fred and I for fighting against Voldemort!" George shot back. "I wish I never knew a thing about Voldemort! I wish I never even went to Hogwarts!"

At this, Oliver let out a string of curse words. "Say You-Know-Who, won't you?! You aren't the same! I thought one of you at least would still be happy or funny or still a damn good Beater, but I guess I was in for a real letdown! I guess Fred would have been less disappointing!" He shouted the last few words.

George turned pale. The other rushed on. "I thought you would at least try to go on! I thought maybe you could get over it instead of putting everyone who gets on your bad side under the Impediment Curse, but I guess I was wrong!"

"I wish I wasn't a wizard," George said at last. "Then Fred and I would have been innocent Muggles...still alive..."

"Don't take it out on everyone, you son of a Bludger!"

"Easy for you to say!" George snarled. "Oliver Wood, playing Puddlemere United Keeper! Playing for England next year! You take everything out on the Quidditch field!"

"You're not even the same person! I saw Fred die, and he wouldn't have wanted this!" Wood shouted back. "Part of you died when Fred did, and you don't even give a damn!" He lowered his voice."Verity's worried about you, you know."

"I did your sister a big favor hiring her, after she dropped out of Hogwarts!" George fired.

"Yeah, well, she cares that her boss is turning into a Muggle!"

"I ought to fire her just for sticking her head in my business!"

"Maybe she misses Fred just as much as you do," Oliver replied coldly. When George gave no reply, he went on. "Maybe she loved him, and he loved her, you know, and you don't care that she's dying of a broken heart. Maybe she loves you now, but you're too caught up in yourself to notice!"

George flinched and stared at him. "You mean Verity loved Fred?"

"You mean you never knew?" Wood retorted scornfully. "God."

The gears were turning in George's mind. "You mean when Verity went out on maternity leave-"

"Yes, that's your nephew."

"My God," George whispered, pushing his rain-soaked hair out of his eyes. "Why didn't Fred tell me?"

"You would have fired her," Wood snapped. "You wouldn't like Fred falling in love and you not. You and Fred were exactly the same. Him having something you don't wouldn't go over well."

"And she told you?"

"I'm her brother," Oliver said, lowering his eyes.

"My God," George repeated. He wiped the water off his glistening face. "God."

"You see why you need to go back to Diagon Alley?"

"I-I can't," stammered George.

"And why the bloody hell can't you?" Oliver demanded angrily. His eyes were dark with shock and rage.

"The boy... He'll look like Fred... Verity will blame me..."

"You're running away?" Oliver exclaimed, disgusted. "You're running away from your own nephew because he'll look like you? And where are you going to go?"

George straightened. A determined look now shone in his eyes. "Oliver, take over the store for me. I'm going somewhere no one will recognize me. None of them will mope around feeling sorry for me or scared of me."

"George, every wizard in Britain will know who you are-" He broke off, realization dawning on his face. "George, no. No. You can't do that."

"You'll run the store for me, won't you?"

"Don't be a prat. You can't really be going out there."

"Try me," George said. "I'm going to go live with Muggles."


	2. Chapter 1-The Gryffindor Coward

**Chapter 1-The Gryffindor Coward**

I straightened my tie and gazed into the mirror. I began to whistle a jivey tune and combed my hair back. I felt for his wand in my pocket and smiled. Muggles were so gullible. They all thought the wand was for looks.

"Mr. Weasley, you're on in three minutes," a Muggle woman told me.

"Thank you, Velda." I stood and headed to the door.

"And...you're on! Go on!"

I stepped out onto the stage in front of thousands of Muggle eyes. I heard the applause, and i grinned. I pulled out a trick wand and a fist sprang out and punched me. The audience emitted laughter. I grinned. "That's how I got all these scars," I joked, tossing the wand into the crowd. People sprang for it.

I smiled. Muggles. They were so easily amused. I did a few basic spells-so minuscule no Ministry official would care to arrest me-and did the rest of my show with the merchandise from the joke store. I did a basic Transfiguration spell and turned a grapefruit into a rabbit.

All in all, it was all right, if not illegal. I made several hundred Muggle dollars, which could easily be transferred to Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts at Gringotts. If Oliver Wood could just see me now.

I pull on my cloak behind stage and exit into the cold London air. For a brief moment of hesitation I debated on writing to Mum when I made it to the apartment. Then, almost unconsciously, my feet changed direction and I be fan walking towards Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. I didn't know why. Maybe I needed to tell Ginny about everything Wood told me little over a month ago. Ron would probably be there with Hermione. He'd told me they went to the Grimmauld Place often...

But how would they take it? Ginny definitely wouldn't take it well, not after they'd had such good news after she and Harry married. She would handle it just as badly as I had...and Ron... Ron would blame me...

Nevertheless, I quickly Apparate inside the Grimmauld Place. There was a shriek. "My God, don't scare me like that again, George!" Ginny exclaims, flinging her arms around my neck. "You said you were going to send an owl as soon as you got back to the store!"

"Yeah, well, Oliver took over for a few weeks," I say lamely. "Went on a little holiday."

"You should have told us," Ginny scolded, with the preoccupied air of a mother.

"Turning into Mum, I see," I tease.

"There's nothing wrong about worrying!" my sister huffs indignantly. "I thought one of the leftover Death Eaters had gotten you..." She shudders. "But very good news!"

"What?" I ask blankly.

"Harry and I are going to have a baby!" she announced.

"Oh yes, Mum told me..."

"Harry's coming home from work soon. You want to stay until then? Ron and Hermione are coming later. So what have you been doing?"

"I spent a lot of time in Hogsmeade," I say carefully, not wanting to explain why.

"Hmm. Well, now that we can live here-" At this, my sister gestured around the Grimmauld Place- "we've not been doing much. Harry has to go very often, tracking down missing Death Eaters, and Ron and Hermione visit."

"Are they married yet?" I ask conversationally.

"No, it's scheduled for Christmas Eve," Ginny said dismissively. "They're going to make a big thing of it. How are things?"

I debate with myself on telling my sister about everything Oliver told me, but I find myself tongue-tied, like I had been Confounded. I open my mouth, about to tell her, when a loud CRACK broke me off. Harry Apparated into the living room in front of Ginny and I. His eyes widened a little with surprise. "Oh, hey, George." He sat down next to Ginny. "What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to drop in," I say lamely. "How's Auror training?"

"Awful. I'm bad at Disguises."

"You can't use the Invisibility Cloak?" I ask, surprised.

"Not in training," Harry said. "Unfortunately. We can use them when we actually work, though."

"Fascinating," I say, my voice oozing sarcasm. Harry doesn't catch it, but Ginny purses her lips, trying not to laugh. Ginny, who Fred and I had basically taught everything we knew about pranks. Ginny, who already asked me if she could start working at the store. Ginny, who I knew better than even Ron or Charlie. Why was I finding it so hard to tell her about our secret nephew?

Because she'd be disappointed in you, a small voice niggles in the back of my mind. I push the thought away as there's a sound like a car backfiring, then someone knocks loudly on the door. Harry goes to the peephole. "It's me, Hermione," a voice says.

"What does Viktor Krum call you?"

"Really?" came an exasperated voice. "That's your security question?"

"Yep."

"Herm-oh-ninny." Harry opens the door to let her in and then slams it shut.

"Ron's out there," Hermione informs him. Her face is slightly pink from blush.

"He might be an imposter," Harry retorted. She sits down on the love seat across from me.

"What shape does my Patronus take?" Harry demands to the door.

"You git, just let me in!"

I laugh as Harry unlocks the door. Ron bursts in, soaked. "It's raining," he explains taking a seat next to Hermione. He puts his arm around her shoulders and looks around. He starts when he sees me. "I haven't heard from you in months," he says. "We went to Diagon Alley a while ago, but you weren't there."

"I went on holiday." I have a headache. Verity... Fred... Nephew...

Hermione narrows her eyes. She can see past the feeble response. I shift my feet nervously, but Ron breaks in before she can speak. "Nice to see you again."

"Well, Oliver's working at the shop some now, so I thought I should stop by here, now that we have more employees."

"Yes, some blonde witch there told us that. Wood's sister, I think. She was just a year above us, I think, before she dropped out." I tense as Ron says this, but he gives no notice and goes on. "Charming staff, you have, George. A wizard told me to get lost when I asked for you. Don't think he believed me when I said we were related."

"I'll have a word with him. Mundungus Fletcher asked for a job, but he'd be sneaking stolen cauldrons into the break room or selling Horcruxes, or something like that. Shame, he'd be good for inventing."

"Mum wouldn't approve of you hiring him," Ginny says with a grin. She heads to the kitchen and reappears with five bowls of soup on a tray.

"Does Mum approve of you getting married at seventeen?" I ask tartly, picking up a bowl. It's hot and burns down my throat.

"Well no, not really. She thinks we rushed into it, since technically I should still be at Hogwarts. Which I more or less dropped out. But she approves of Harry," she says. Ginny seems somehow...different. I suppose it's because she's going to have a kid, and she's married.

"What about you, George? Got yourself a girl?" Ron asks, rather snidely.

My mind flickers momentarily to what Oliver had said about Verity. "No," I say defensively. "No," I repeat. "I'm...too busy." I clear my throat, casting my mind out to change the subject. "Wood's playing for England this year."

"Really?" Harry leans forward, interested. "They wanted me to play Seeker for them. I almost signed on."

"What made you not?"

"I got recruited by the Aurors." He says this casually, but there's a gleam of pride in his green eyes, either about being an Auror or being good enough to sign on an international team.

"Well, Puddlemere won their Division Championships three years in a row, and that's because they've got a damn good Seeker and Wood made some spectacular saves," Ron says wisely. He pushes his damp hair out of his eyes and picks up a bowl of soup. "Wood was third in the draft for international teams. Uganda wanted him."

"Uganda will make it to the World Cup," Ginny says confidently. We talk about Quidditch for a while. Then, when it's almost eleven, I give an over-emphasized yawn and say, "Well, I'd better be going. Nice seeing you guys."

"You can stay here," Ginny offers.

"No, I'm going to Hogsmeade. We might turn Zonko's into another store," I lie. "I'll probably be back soon." I cross my fingers behind my back as I say it. I pull on my jacket when my wallet falls out.

"Oh, here, George," Ginny says picking it up to hand to me. It falls open, revealing a wad of Muggle money. "George, why do you have...?"

"Well, bye," I say quickly, unwilling to answer the uncomfortable questions that were sure to come. I Apparate as fast as possible, focusing my mind on the Three Broomsticks. For a moment there's the feeling of being stuffed in an exceptionally skinny rubber tube, and then I'm in front of the pub. I push through the doors and sit down at a table by myself. Madam Rosmerta steps out from behind the bar and calls to me, "Firewhiskey?"

"Yeah," I yell back. The pub isn't as crowded as usual, but there are several goblins at a table heatedly discussing an attempted break-in at Gringotts and an elderly witch drank mead in the corner. As Rosemary, Rosmerta's daughter, came out with my firewhiskey, a young witch in dark blue robes walks in, laughing, while a wizard around her age follows, grinning. They sit down at a table near me. Neither can be older than I am. Rosemary brings out flagons of butterbeer and sets them down in front of them. I sip my firewhiskey and watch as the boy tells a funny story, and she almost chokes on her drink from laughing so hard. I feel a pang as I watch. If Fred were still alive, he and Verity might be doing this.

The goblins pay and leave. Several Ministry wizards come in. I sit at my table, resting my head on my hand, alcohol swirling around my mind. I finish my firewhiskey off and pull my cloak on, ready to Apparate to the flat above Zonko's when the door opens again, and a burly guy walks in. Wood. He catches sight of me and crosses the room and takes the chair across from me. "Hullo."

"Hmm," I answer. It should have been a sign that I didn't want to talk, but Wood misses the hint.

"Thought you might want a picture," he says gruffly, reaching into his cloak. He pulls out a picture and sets in front of me. There's a baby, no older than a few months, with tufts of bright red hair on his head. I look at it, then Oliver, and then back at the kid. The picture changes and his face breaks out in a smile. "Cute kid," I rasp.

"Yeah," he says with a grin. "His name's Eros Frederick Wood."

I glance up. "Frederick?" I echo stiffly.

"Yeah," Oliver says, and this time he has the decency to drop his eyes.

"Eros..." I murmur, musing over the name. It had some meaning, I knew I'd read or heard it somewhere...

"The Greek god of love," Oliver explains, still not meeting my eyes, but I can understand what he left unsaid. The god of love. Verity... Fred... Everything he'd never told me... Why?

I swallow hard. "He's not a Weasley?"

"Well, Fred and Verity were never married," Oliver points out reasonably. He follows my gaze to the couple, the boy smiling as she laughed very hard. Wood's smile vanishes and his gaze darkens. "George, I'm seriously worried about you. I'm sure they have specialists at St. Mungo's. You should at least go check in on the shop."

"How's it going now?"

"Good. I can't be there the whole time. England is picking up practice. We play the opening match against Albania, and Krum is still playing for them. Damn hard, really, seeing we'll lose if Katie Bell doesn't do top notch-she signed on for England, did I tell you?-the Quaffle will be Albania's if she sucks that day, and since we're playing in the mountains it'll be even harder, what with the winds and high altitude and low pressure and such-"

"Oliver, I just wanted to know how the store was going."

"In that case, business is booming. Hogwarts is starting soon and there are kids in and out getting Skiving Snackboxes-you ran out of Nosebleed Nougats today-and the daydreams are doing exceptionally well."

"Good."

"You should drop in sometime. No one's seen tail of you since You-Know-Who came back. I mean, since it got really dangerous." I inwardly sigh at the suggestion.

"I don't know, Oliver..."

"If it's because of Verity and just because you're too big of a coward to see your brother's son, grow a pair, get over it, and grow up. Honestly, I never thought someone from Gryffindor would turn out to be such a coward, let alone you!" He says it so loud the couple looks over.

I stiffen and don't reply for a while. Then, in the lowest voice I've ever used, I say, "You never thought Fred was going to end up dead by the time we were eighteen, either."

"Just come to Diagon Alley again," Wood pleads, desperation seeping into his voice. I notice he avoids answering my last comment. "Everyone wants to see you. You're a proper hero!"

"Yeah right," I say dejectedly, scrounging around my pockets for money. I put it atop a stack of plates Rosemary was carrying.

"Look, it's better than doing magic in front of God knows how many Muggles," Oliver says hotly. Rosmerta raises an eyebrow from behind the bar as she mixed drinks.

"Quiet down!" I hiss.

"I've heard from the Ministry. It's only a matter of time your parents find out. Your dad works with Muggle stuff anyway. Percy probably already does."

"Percy can screw himself." The witch who had had trouble stifling her laugh now looks over disgustedly, but the boy grins.

"He probably will, but that's not the point. Yes, it's minor magic, but it's magic nonetheless! Do you even realize how illegal that is? They'll break your wand if you keep it up." He was smiling, but his eyes were steely.

"Fine," I say. "I'll open a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes here in Hogsmeade at Zonko's, so I don't have to look at any of you ever again!"

"And how long do you think it'll be before someone recognizes Eros as either your son or Fred's? Three years? Verity lives in the Alley, everyone will see him. Everyone goes to Diagon Alley, and everyone knew you two. You were infamous."

"Were?" I echo incredulously.

"If you haven't noticed you've went..._underground_ in the past few months. Jesus, Ginny probably has more tricks up her sleeve than you do." Oliver finished off his butterbeer and stood up, pushing his chair in. "I'll see you tomorrow, nine o'clock, morning, at the Leaky Cauldron."

"What?" I call after him. "You're mistaken! I'm not going!"

But he gave no sign of having heard, or maybe he was just ignoring me.

Either was not a good sign. "Hey! I think you need your hearing checked!" I shout, gaining a few dirty looks from the couple.

I sigh. Would I go to Diagon Alley tomorrow? I order another firewhiskey from Rosemary and set my mind on getting so drunk that tomorrow I'd have a reason not to show up.


	3. Chapter 2-The Weasley Betrayal

Chapter 2

I wake with a splitting headache on the couch of the flat above Zonko's. For the first time I truly appreciate the definition of "hangover."

"You okay?" as sharp voice demands. I turn swiftly, hurting my stiff neck, and see the girl who had been sitting next to Oliver and I yesterday at the Three Broomsticks.

"How in the hell did you get into my apartment?"

"You use a Muggle lock? Disgusting," a different voice sneers. It's the wizard, who had been on a date with the girl.

"You passed out after your fifth drink," the girl says scornfully. "Lightweight." I find this offensive, since Fred and I had outweighed everyone on the Gryffindor Quidditch team but Wood.

"Who are you?" I ask, trying to sound threatening but coming across sluggish.

"Mr. Doss and Ms. Jefferson," the boy says curtly. "Aurors working for the Ministry. You realize you performed magic in front of God knows how many Muggles yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"We're here to-" the girl begins, but I cut her off.

"Look," I say sleepily, "I've got to go to a meeting. It's very important, and matters a great deal to me. If you want to send me to Azkaban, so be it. I'm already as unhappy as can be. Dementors won't be a great help for you against me. So I'll be right back in about an hour, so hold on." And before any of them can discourage me, I've already Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron.

I find myself standing in front of the trash bins. I find the secret brick and tap it with my wand before Diagon Alley reveals itself. I stand outside the Leaky Cauldron, slightly bewildered for a moment before a meaty hand claps on my shoulder. I turn around and stare into the grinning face of Oliver Wood. "C'mon," he says. "Let's get some breakfast." He pushes through the doors. Tom, the bartender's eyes widen a bit when he sees me. He must recognize me. I shouldn't have been so stupid.

Oliver orders hotcakes for both of us with tall glasses of juice. As we eat, he glances up at me. "It's only eight-thirty. You're half an hour early."

I wipe my groggy eyes. "Yeah, well two Ministry officials came to my apartment, so I wanted to clear out of there."

Wood lets his fork clatter to his plate for dramatization, because this couldn't have come as a shock to him. After all, he was the one who warned me about the Ministry. "They're _what_?" he asks, sounding incredulous. His mouth forms an O in mock surprise.

I glance up and see Tom the bartender staring at us intently. I meet his eyes and instantly he averts his and becomes extremely interested in a smudge on the bar, then begins possessively wiping it. I lower my voice. "Yeah, you were right. I got here early. They're probably just giving me a warning though. You're not lucky enough to get rid of me."

"Sadly," Wood says drily. I look up again. Tom must've been trying to polish the mahogany bar until it turned into diamonds, because he was still furiously scrubbing it with a rag. "I can't be here all day, so we gotta do what were gonna do fast. I've got practice later. You'd think Katie Bell would know the plays by now and that the Quaffle goes from Gillman to Zuckafoose to Gillman and then her, but we've got practice because she just can't seem to see straight, and I found out damn Malfoy is playing backup Seeker for Albania-he's a bad Seeker and a worse sport, it's a wonder why one of the best teams in the world signed him on, and the backup Keeper is quite keen to show me up, and did I mention I've already signed on for next season as the team captain?-"

"So what are we doing here?" I ask, breaking him off before he can give a more thorough account, though Draco Malfoy playing backup Seeker for any international team struck me as unusual.

"Meeting your kin," Oliver says. "You're kind of like my brother-in-law now. Sort of. Want to see who's his favorite uncle?"

"I'd rather not," I say uncomfortably.

"You're already here," Wood says breezily. "Better than facing the Ministry, eh?"

I wanted to tell him I'd rather face a pack of Aurors-they often seemed to hunt in packs, like Moody, Podmore, and Tonks-but before I can, he's already dragged me out into the street.

"I'm not going," I say.

"Sure you are, you haven't Disapparated back to Hogmeade yet," he points out. "Come on, there are a lot of people around today."

He's right. As we walk past a boutique for cloaks in all colors, Pansy Parkinson frowns from a window. For a short few minutes we stop into Florish and Blotts, where Lee Jordan was getting his young daughters fitted for robes and cloaks. Lee claps me on the shoulders and grins. "Haven't seen you in ages. Been trying to get a job at the store, thought you might need some help, now that it's just you..." He trailed off awkwardly and shook his head. "Anyway, I've been trying to get a hold of you since, well, the Order had to go secret... Talked to Fred some when we did that radio thing with Kingsley and Lupin, but that's it..."

"Who's this?" I ask him, smiling at the little girls clutching Lee's arm.

"Oh, this is Venus," Lee says scooping the littlest up. "Just turned one, didn't you, sweetie? The other is Nadi, after some gypsy my mum was related to. Mum wanted to name her that, I personally thought more traditional names were fine. She's two." He added to Wood and I, "They look more like me than their mother, but don't let her tell you that, she thinks they both look more like her than me, speaking of the devil-"

At that moment Alicia Spinnet, Gryffindor Chaser, pushed through the doors, looking exasperated and flustered as she balanced a baby on her hip and made her way to us. "Lee, I told you to be ready to go when I got back from my sister's, but you're still here and we need to go or we'll be late." She readjusted the infant so she was holding her now.

"I was coming, I swear," Lee deadpans, "but look who turned up." He jerks his head in my direction.

Alicia opens her mouth again but stops falteringly. Her eyes widen a little bit with shock and travel along my scarred face. "George?"

"Yeah, me," I say, a little ungraciously. I wasn't comfortable with people goggling and doing double takes upon meeting. Now I understood how Harry felt.

Alicia puts one arm around me in an odd, casual hug way. "You should have come for our wedding!"

"When did you guys get married...?"

"We might have eloped shortly after You-Know-Who came back, but you know, love is love," Lee says in an offhand way. The girl he was holding started to squirm, and he set her down on the ground and relieved Alicia from the baby. "And this," he says to me, "is Aurora. Just born a few months ago at St. Mungo's."

"I'm happy for you two," I say, smiling. But now there was a lump in my throat and I fought to swallow it. Eros was born a few months ago. "Harry and Ginny got married."

"Been there, done that. I was the minister at the wedding," Lee says in a bored voice. "Well, when you get back to your funny, troublemaking old self, drop in. We're living in Nottinghamshire now." Alicia picked up the middle daughter and held the hand of the oldest. "Side by side Apparition," Lee throws over his shoulder, as with a sharp crack, they disappear.

We keep heading down the alley, pausing every now and then at shops. "Did you know they eloped?" I ask Wood. In all honesty, I had never even expected Lee and Alicia to get married. She was, well, too pretty for the boy with dreadlocks and the obsession with fireworks since he was eleven.

Wood takes his time answering. "Oh, yeah. Happy, aren't they?"

"They remind me of my mum and dad. They eloped when Voldemort was here the first time."

"Say You-Know-Who."

We keep heading down Diagon Alley. It seems so much bigger since the last time I had lived here. We pass an elderly woman snapping at a young man, and I halt when I realize who it is.

"Neville!"

"Hullo," he says. I recognize the woman as his grandmother, who snaps, "You need to get your act together if you think you'll be teaching next week at Hogwarts!"

"You're teaching?" I echo, trying to keep an incredulous note out of my voice. Neville had always struck me as a Muggle-loving person like Dad.

He beams. "Yeah. Sprout retired and out in a good word for me as the new Herbology professor. Sinistra's took over as the Hufflepuff head."

"Get going, Neville! There are some stores I still need to get to!" snapped his volatile grandmother.

"Yes, Grandma," he says meekly, following her with a wave to Oliver and I.

We keep trudging through Diagon Alley. At last, about a block away from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Oliver stops in front of a boutique selling frilly dress robes for old witches. "We're here," he announces.

"Here?" I echo, apprehension swirling in my stomach.

"Here," Oliver confirms. "She lives in one of the apartments upstairs. Not very roomy, if you ask me..." He trails off at my expression and pushes through the doors. He walks straight through the store, nods to an elderly witch reading The Quibbler, and walks to the employee section. Wood pushes open a door, revealing a staircase. He leads the way up, and there's a long hallway of doors. Wood takes a left, then a right, and stops in front of 231.

"This is it."

I step down an adjacent hall out of sight as he knocks. I hear the door open. "Ollie?" asks a groggy, familiar voice. I can hardly suppress a snigger as Verity goes on, "Ollie, what are you doing here? I start my shift at the store in an hour. Just meet me there."

"I've got practice today," Wood says smoothly.

The door opens wider. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair.

"I wanted to check on you and Eros before I left."

"Eros is still sleeping."

"Hmm." He lowers his voice, so low I have to prick my ears to hear. "When are you going to tell George?"

It feels as if someone punched me in the stomach, knocking the breath out of me. It's like I'm under the Cruciatus Curse again, because this hurts. This hurts worse than anything I've ever experienced.

Fred was never going to tell me. He was never going to tell me I was an uncle and that my nephew was his son. Because he would have told me, or he would have told Verity to if he didn't make it. But if she didn't want me to know... She didn't know I knew... Fred would have a reason in that...

I stumble down the hall and open a door to the stairs. I hear Verity in another hall over say, "What's that?" I trip down the stairs to the landing and sit there, hugging my knees like I haven't since I was six. After several minutes, the door opens, and Wood steps into the light, and I can see the mix of anger and confusion on his face. But I didn't want to see him either. He was the one who told me, who ruined what I had thought of Fred. I meet his eyes for a heartbeat before I Apparate away, my mind whirling. The Ministry officials are gone, replaced by an envelope on the mantle. Absently I skim it and toss it into the fire, watching it burn.

It was all his fault. All his fault he never told me he had a son, an affair. All his fault. I wish I were a Muggle. Then, I wouldn't know a thing about any of this, about Voldemort, or Fred, or my secret nephew. I wish I were dead. What's the point in having a life when you're going to lose it anyway, no matter what?

This is my last thought as I sink onto the couch, a wave of black despair and anguish sweeping over me in the tides of hell.


	4. Chapter 3-Avenging Orin

Chapter 3

The Riddle House stood atop a hill, its dilapidated front sagging as rain pounded against it. A dark-haired woman stood in front of it, her hair whipping as the wind roared around her. Lightning flashed in the distance. She raised the silver knocker and hit it against the door. Hastily a slot in the door opened. She stepped closer to the door. "It's me, Fulvia Sanderson."

"How old were you when the Dark Lord recruited you?" a raspy voice demanded.

"Seventeen," the woman answers. The door flies open. A tall black man stood there.

"Fulvia," he says, his gaze traveling across her face. "Long time since I've seen you."

"Aries, I think we have found the boy."

Instantly the man stiffened. He glanced at the fire in the hearth. "The Floo Network is rather insecure at the moment. We won't have much time before someone suspects we're here."

"Listen to me, Aries. He's living somewhere we hadn't expected, he's not with his family."

"Where does he live?" Aries demanded hungrily. Bloodlust shone in his eyes. "Fulvia, you have to tell me. You know how his brother murdered my brother."

"Murdered?" Fulvia gave a mirthless laugh. "It's not murder in the thick of battle. I don't know where he lives, and even if I did, I would never tell you. You know we can't risk it yet."

"There are better ways of torture than the Cruciatus Curse," Aries retorts. "Killing him now would be useless. He... He has a nephew... The son of that bastard... He will know... He will know how his father killed Orin. He will know we killed his father."

"I suggest you lay low for a while," the woman says icily. "Are you really willing to risk getting Kissed to kill him? Give it a while. I agree, we should go after the nephew, and perhaps his mother?" she says tartly. "Fred is gone, and he knew that we would go after his brother next. He was very cautious about everything."

"This is good revenge," Aries says, his eyes brightening with hunger. "Let me kill him. Let me kill the brother and the nephew."

"No," Fulvia says, her eyes darkening as she glanced outside. "Not now. Now we must go. The Ministry will be sending someone. It's not safe. You're attracting too much attention. Why did you kill that family just to find a place to rest?"

"It was worth it," he says indifferently. "I won't kill anymore. Not until we get him."

"Very well," she agrees, and within moments she has Disapparated. Aries hangs back, gazing into the fire.

"Yes," he says quietly. "You don't know what it's like to lose a brother, do you, Fred? I suppose the next best thing is to reunite you with your brother and the son you never saw as soon as possible."


	5. Chapter 4-Fred's Philosophy

Chapter 4-Philosophies of Fred Weasley

Two days later I step into the Muggle cafe, hating being unable to Apparate. I step forward to the register behind a Muggle family and order a coffee, the only thing I recognize on the menu. A bored teenager hands me my Muggle change and I find a seat next to a window. I look out and see a dirty street. London seemed exceptionally more filthy when you actually had to walk around in it.

A Muggle newspaper lies on my table, and I unfold it and gaze at the headline, a bit crestfallen the pictures don't move. An entire family found dead in a house, but no cause to why. They were just dead. It gives me the ominous feeling of the Killing Curse. Surely that was the only thing that could kill them.

I am so rapt by the newspaper I don't even notice when someone else comes and stands near me. Only her voice jolts me from my trance.

"You're the magician."

"Huh?" I ask, dragging my gaze from the picture of a dead body to see who interrupted my reading. I see a girl, around my age, with tow-headed blonde hair braided over one shoulder. On her other shoulder was a book bag strap. She had glasses with large frames, which on anyone else would look humiliating, but on her made her seem slightly sophisticated and pretty.

"You're the magician," she repeats, staring at me appraisingly. At my blank gaze, she goes on, rather impatiently, "You know, the magician who performed at the Lyne Center a few days ago."

"Oh. Oh yeah," I say lamely. "That was me." I'd forgotten what Muggles called us witches and wizards. Dad might have mentioned it a few times.

She keeps standing there. "Good magic. I went and saw you with one of my friends," she says thoughtfully. "Mind if I join you?"

"Er... Not at all?" I say. She takes the seat across from me and sets her book bag down beside her. I put the newspaper down, because I feel obligated to. She skims over the headline and sighs. "The daughter goes to my university, about a block from here," she adds, as I continue staring at her blankly. "She was a junior, well you know, before she died. A lot of people think Sirius Black murdered them." Some of the words were foreign to me, but I got the gist of what she was telling me.

"I heard he's dead," I say carefully. The words hurt coming out of my mouth. An ache spreads through my chest.

She shrugs. "No one really knows, do they? I mean, he escaped prison, didn't he? So he could do anything." I know he's dead, I think. And he did escape from prison... But Sirius Black was no killer...

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Je m'appelle January Watson," she says with a flourish, extending her hand. Reluctantly I shake it as she asks, "Et toi?"

"Hablo no espanol," I reply, knowing very well from being around Fleur she was speaking French.

She laughs. "What's your name?"

"Je suis George," I manage, even with what shabby French I'd picked up from Fleur. I'm rewarded with a laugh from January.

Her brows furrow together and a thoughtful crease forms in her forehead. "Hmm. Do you have a last name, Mr. George? I do have a friend from Burkina Faso without a last name, but she was an exchange student." It was so bizarre to actually talk to a Muggle.

"Weasley," I say.

"Nice to make your acquaintance," she says with a smile. At that moment a beeping sound fills the air, and she pulls a Muggle device out of her pocket. "Well, my coach is looking for me, so I had better make for a run. I'll see you around, George."

"You too, January."

She smiles, picks up her book bag, and heads outside. I see her walk past the dirty avenue inches away, separated by a thin pane of glass. She doesn't look at me.

"That was odd," I mutter. No wonder we were advised to stay away from Muggles, if she was something to judge off of. Even so, I was trying to fit in with them. I finish my coffee, fold the newspaper, and stuff it in one of the trench coat's pockets. I head outside turn down a deserted alley, and without giving it much thought, I Apparate to the Burrow.

There's a tight, uncomfortable feeling for a moment, like trying to wear pants three sizes small, and then I appear on the doorstep of my old house. I hesitate on opening the door-I'd probably give Mum a fright-and I ring the bell.

"Who is it?" trills a familiar voice.

"George."

"George?!" She exclaims, and the door bursts open. Mum throws her arms around me. "Georgie!"

She steps back and stares at me with warm eyes. "I haven't seen you for months! After the funeral you just left, and we hadn't heard from you until Ginny said you dropped in on them. I suppose I should ask you the security question, there are still Death Eaters everywhere..." She frowns. "When is your birthday?"

"April 3's my birthday," I say smoothly, pushing back a twinge of guilt. I shouldn't have let them worry about me. They'd already lost one son.

"Come in," she chirps, leading me inside the house. I'm surprised it's virtually unchanged. Some of the pictures are different. I see a picture Harry and Ginny at their wedding, and then the picture changes and they kiss. It makes my blood boil. Back when Ginny dated Dean Thomas, Fred had threatened to shove one of our newest inventions-a cross between a grappling hook and a water hose, which only purpose was blackmail-up his arse if he broke her heart. He had come in when we had just opened our store, had laughed, and then promised not to. I glance to the next picture. It's of Fleur and Bill, blinking at whoever took the picture.

There's a picture of all of us. There's one of Fred and I, grinning. As I watch, Fred gives me a wet-willy. I turn away from it. I don't even recognize me. Even with the scars from the Cruciatus Curse put on me by the Death Eaters at the Hogwarts battle, I was recognizable. But now I wasn't innocent. I'd never seen anyone die, never been able to see a thestral.

Fred had been buried the way he died, a hint of a smile on his face, a bit of a bruise on his temple. I had glimpsed his eyes before they prepared him for burial. I had expected them to be gleaming with the same mischief as always, amused at the thing that had made him smile. Instead his eyes had been cloudy and expressionless. But his smile... Maybe he was still happy even in death.

"Ginny and Harry got married in June," Mum says absently. "And now Ron and Hermione are engaged... Oh, Percy and Penelope are dating again... Percy's living here now until they get married... Merlin knows how long that will be... Charlie's getting married too soon... Some girl he met in Romania, she went to Hogwarts... Stay until your father and Percy get back from work."

I glance at the clock. Percy and Dad's hands were pointing to "work." I notice Fred's hand had been removed.

Suddenly Percy and Dad's hands move to "traveling." There's a sharp crack outside. Mum glances out the peephole, doesn't ask a question to them, but opens the door. Percy steps inside. "Yes, Mr. Jones agrees completely with me. Goblins have enough gold as it is," he says. His gaze slides past her and stops on me. "George," he says politely.

"Hullo, Percy," I say, matching his cool tone. Whenever meeting my brother again in my imagination, it hadn't went like this.

Before he can say anything else, Dad pushes through the door. He drops his briefcase at sight of me and rushes forward, wrapping his arms around me in a massive, constricting hug. "You should have wrote," he scolds me. "We were worried sick."

"I've been busy," I say lamely. Dad steps back and gazes at me, warmth in his eyes. "Are you taller than me now?" he asks.

"I don't know," Percy says sharply. "Hard to tell how much he's grown when we haven't seemed to see him for a few months." Mum and Dad seem to miss the tension, because Mum heads into the kitchen and I can hear her bewitching knives to slice potatoes. Dad heads upstairs for the bathroom.

"You've been busy?" Percy sneers. "What's so important it would bring you away from your family?"

"Says you?" I scorn. "You made Mum cry. She cried herself to sleep. Every night. You were too stupid and arrogant and a pain in the arse." I pause. "If you must know, I, for one, am choosing to benefit the world by carrying on with Fred's memory, instead of being a waste of space and oxygen, like yourself."

He turns scarlet and turns to head upstairs. But before he disappears into the hall, I say, "Oi, Percy!"

He halts and turns to glare at me. I make sure Mum's not listening-she's turned on the wireless to listen to the Weird Sisters. "Go screw yourself, Perce."

I can see his eyes glint with rage as he slams the door behind him. Loudly, to Mum, I say, "I really should be going. I've got a lot to do tonight." Before she can talk me out of it, I've already Apparated to Hogsmeade.

I stand in front of the Three Broomsticks, a bit hesitant. I push through the doors and find the pub, as usual, crowded. I take a seat by myself and Rosmerta comes past and hands me a firewhiskey. I take a few sips and set it down on the table. It burns down my throat, searing my tongue with bitterness and fire as it courses down my throat.

The door opens again. Wood glances around, his face ashen. He sees me and crosses the room in a few great strides.

"She doesn't know I know?" I snarl. "Fred didn't want to tell me, then?"

"Calm down!" he snaps, sitting down. "I don't know anything about what Fred wanted."

I give a disbelieving snort and take a long drink.

"You're," Oliver says, ripping the firewhiskey from my grasp. "A. Fucking. Alcoholic."

"Go to hell," I say.

"You go to hell," Wood retorts.

"I'm already living in one," I say, smiling coldly. "And you're not making it all sunshine, either."

"Look," he says, desperation creeping into his voice. "Listen to me. You've got every right to be mad at me-"

"Which I am," I chime in.

"-and I should have told you-"

"Damn right-"

"-and I shouldn't have lied." Wood takes a deep breath. "But I'm not here to tell you to stop drinking, or to get everything right. I'm actually here on a mission for England International Quidditch Team."

I stare at him.

"You see," he goes on hastily, "one of our Beaters got hit with a Bludger so hard they're in a coma at St. Mungo's. One of our Chasers, Zachary Gillman, is in Mungo's with a broken neck. He fell off a broom during practice, obliterated one of the discs in his back, I don't know the details. Angelina Johnson, our backup Chaser, is now playing. Our backup Beater quit when he didn't get a pay raise." He stops to see if I'm following. I nod. He continues. "So England has three players from Gryffindor. And we still need a Beater."

"And...?"

"We were wondering," Wood rushes on, "if you would be interested in playing Beater."

I lean back. "Really?"

"Don't sound so surprised, you and Fred were the ruddy best Beaters Hogwarts ever saw," he snaps.

"Sure," I say.

"Is that it?" Wood asks, his eyebrows knitting with surprise. "You aren't going to ask for details?"

"Nope."

"Okay." He gazes at me, a little confused. "Practice starts tomorrow. Apparate to the woods where the World Cup was at around seven-thirty."

"I'll be there," I say, unsure why I agreed so readily.

Oliver sets the firewhiskey on the table. "I'm really sorry."

"Would she let me see him?"

"You want to?" he demands, incredulous.

I weigh in the options. "Not really," I admit.

"Just be there tomorrow," Oliver advises. His face is no longer grim. In fact, he smiles. "George, you're one of the best Beaters in England. We'll be unstoppable!" He slaps me on the back before walking out.

I don't know why I agreed. If anything, playing Beater would remind me more of Fred and his skills, the days we played in the backyard with Bill, Charlie, and Ron while Ginny watched enviously from her bedroom and Percy looked on, his nose too high in the air to notice. Back then when Bill had always dreamed of becoming the Minister of Magic and marrying a veela (he came very close with the second one) and Charlie's greatest ambition was to become Head Boy (which he had) and he ended up teaching Oliver Wood everything he knew about being Keeper. And Percy had always been a git, even then... Ron had always wanted to become a comedian. Ginny had planned on becoming a housewife, and nothing else. And Fred and I, we had already been genius in the making, destined for great things in the jokes and pranking category. Hadn't we hoped to play for England, the twin Beaters, the best Beaters in the world one day? It wasn't the same without Fred. It wasn't a one-person destiny.

And neither of us had expected this. We hadn't expected one of us to die before the other was twenty. Neither of us had expected death to come so swiftly on someone so deserving of life.

I finish my firewhiskey, leave money on the table for Rosmerta, and head back to my apartment.


	6. Chapter 5-Death Eaters and Coffee

Chapter 5-Death Eaters and Coffee

I get to the woods early the next morning. It takes me a moment to realize today is September the first, and that students would be returning to Hogwarts today. I stand warily beside a pine, glancing up at the sky nervously as the first signs of dawn appear. I keep expecting the Dark Mark to pop up, just as it did at the World Cup.

Far off there's a sharp crack. Someone just Apparated here. I step out from under my pine, feeling the hair on my neck rise in anticipation. Cautiously, I raise my wand, just in case. I relax when I see it's only Katie Bell, standing just beyond the tree line. She sees me through the gloom. "Wood? Is that you?"

I step into the light, out from under the canopy of needles and branches. I see her give what seems to be an involuntary flinch, and she pulls out her wand with a shaky hand, aiming it slightly above me, into the trees. "George?"

"Yeah. It's me." She doesn't lower her wand.

"Get over here," she says, her voice quivering. "Be very careful."

"Why?"

"Just do it, you prat!"

I step through to stand beside her. "What is it?"

"Why are you here so early? Practice starts in an hour."

"Wood told me seven-thirty," I say defensively.

Her eyes are still in the trees. "Yeah, he would. He always gets here for an early fly."

"What's in the tree?"

She exhales. "I think it's a Death Eater. One of the ones who didn't get caught."

"What?!" I hiss, turning around, wand ready for dueling. I see a silvery shape step nimbly out of the tree, jumping from branch to branch until it hit the ground. It stepped forward. I see the silvery shape morph into the tall, laughing form of Shayden Macnair, the executioner's wife. White-hot fury courses through my veins. She killed Colin Creevey, I think. "Avada Kedav-" I scream, but before I can get the whole hex out, I see her transform again, flickering into the silvery shape again before it changed to be a red-haired man, his face quite like Fred and I, almost us, but not quite. It flickers back into Macnair.

"It's a boggart," I say grimly, pulling out my wand as it turned into the man with red hair. "Riddikulus!" I shout. The boggart turns into smoke and dissolves as a wind rifles through the meadow.

"Merlin's beard," Katie breathes. "I thought- I thought-"

"It's fine." I put my wand back into my pocket. "I don't know where the Quidditch pitch is," I say. I'm glad she doesn't bother me about what my boggart turned into. I myself aren't sure what it means.

Katie nods. She still looks shaken, but she begins to lead the way through the the woods along a trail. "We can't Apparate directly to the pitch," she explains to me. "It's like Hogwarts." She finds a path and we follow it to a dark green, mowed field. "Here we are," she says brightly. "The stadium's on the other side of the woods, we aren't supposed to practice on it. We just play on it." She waves her wand at a patch of tall grass, and it immediately withers until it's normal height. "We use Firebolts," she tells me. "Ever rode one?"

"I rode Harry's," I mumble.

"Of course you did, I don't know why I asked," she says. "Well, we keep the brooms in that shed, there's a password to get in." She points to a dark building on the other side of the pitch. "You can use a Firebolt now and get the feel of it." She traipses over the field to the shed. I'm reminded how, when Fred and I had just passed our Apparation tests, we would Apparate and Disapparate everywhere, from room to room and just outside to check the thermometer.

A few minutes later she comes back, a Firebolt in hand. I wield my wand and yell, "Accio Firebolt!" The broom flies from her hand to my grasp. I let go of it, and it vibrates in the air at waist-height. I grin at Katie. She tosses me a bat to hit the Bludgers.

"They're great," she says. I sit down on it, amazed at how light it is. I soar upwards, ten feet, twenty, thirty, forty. Katie is much smaller from here.

"I'm going to release a Bludger," she calls. "Wood's coming up the trail now, show him what you got!" She opens a crate. I see a heavy black ball whizz out of the crate. It seems to gravitate directly toward me, and I move forward on the birch broom, raise my rod, and whack the Bludger away. It shoots through the air.

"Nice!" a familiar voice calls. I fly down to the ground until I am hovering several inches from the ground. Oliver Wood crosses his arms and grins. "You've still got it!"

"And you thought I lost it?" I retort, anger bubbling in me. If he thought he would just pretend that him lying to me about Fred and Verity and Eros, and about how he had deceived me and believe that it had never happened, he had another think coming. I soar through the air, across the pitch, and plant my feet into tough, springy grass feet away from Katie.

"You and Hollis will make a good team," Katie says, nodding approvingly. "It's Angelina's first day, too. It feels like having the old Gryffindor team again!"

Without Harry, I think bitterly, or Alicia, or the minor drawback that one of the best Beaters Hogwarts had ever had had been brutally murdered by Death Eaters. No biggie. Katie seems to be following my thoughts, because quickly she bustles off to retrieve her own broom to fly for a while. Oliver trudges through the dewy grass to stand next to me. I turn my head the other side to see Katie kicking off the ground, rising to a height I wouldn't dare go to. She had to have been at least sixty feet off the ground.

Wood seems to realize I'm not willing to talk about yesterday, or before then, when he took me to meet Verity, because he doesn't say anything. I fly for another half hour or so before the team captain arrives. We begin practice, which is not unlike the ones Skylar Prince, who had been the Gryffindor Captain in my first year, or Charlie's, who had captained in my second year, or Wood's, or Angelina had decided on. Boreas Hollis, the other Beater, is very skilled. He's tall and lanky, different from most Beaters, but I saw him shoot a Bludger with extreme force to the other side of the pitch.

Afterwards I change into Muggle clothes in the locker room. Before anyone else notices, I Apparate to London, in the same dirty alley I had been in the day before. I want to see the newspaper again, I want to see if there are anymore unnatural deaths occurring. I step into the same Muggle cafe I had drank coffee in yesterday. I order the same thing, and the same teenager gives me my change. I find a table adjacent to the street and read over today's newspaper. There's some rubbish about a war in the Middle East. Halfway through the issue I find what I'm looking for.

WOMAN FOUND AT KING'S CROSS  
67-year-old Sarah White was found dead on a bench at King's Cross, between platforms 9 and 10. She appears to have been relatively healthy. There is no sign that she died from a struggle, fight, shot, stabbed, had a heart attack, stroke, or other kind of unnatural or natural death. Darius Phillips, head scientist at the Forensic department, stated that White's eyes "were glazed over with fear, and her mouth was open the way someone's would if they were to scream." This suggests White died of unnatural causes, but is the only trace of evidence. Police are willing to pay a reward to any eyewitness on the issue.

Yes, I think. It left you looking your last emotion. It left you unable to change your expression, leaving you smiling, laughing, or screaming. It would leave you with whatever you were thinking still on mind while your life should be spreading far ahead of you. It always killed. There was only one survivor from it. Your chances of survival were slim by the time someone raised their wand. If you used a Shield Charm, perhaps a curse so powerful would be unable to penetrate it. Perhaps it would bounce back.

I know, because an Unforgivable Curse killed Fred Weasley, or so they tell me. There was something involved with the roof caving in as well, but Fred was left unharmed from it. I know, because when they brought his body out to the Great Hall, we all mourned him, and he had been smiling. Like he was still happy in death. Bill and Percy and Dad and Mum and Charlie and Ron and Ginny and I. We all huddled around him, we all cried into his clothes and hair as the last bit of warmth left his body.

We were always Fred and George, one was never separated from the other. He was always the charming one, able to get people to buy whatever we were selling. I suppose that's why Verity loved him. I was the one who had the ideas, figured out how to get rid of the boils from one of the Skiving Snackboxes, figured out how to put orders in the newspaper before we had premises, without Mum seeing. We were never just by ourselves. It was never just Fred, or jut George. But that was before he kept so many secrets, before I realized too late that we were nothing alike... I feel tears slide down my cheeks.

"George Weasley," a soft voice says.

I look up and see a blonde girl take the seat across from me. "January Watson," I say, remembering her name.

"Nice to see you again," she says, rather tentatively.

"You too." And it is. Because she's someone I've never known before, someone who never knew me as the other half of the Weasley twins, someone who doesn't know how much I've changed in the months since Fred had died.

"Why so down?" she asks, offering a smile.

"Nothing," I say quickly.

She raises an eyebrow incredulously but says nothing.

"How often do you come here?" I ask quietly.

"Well, it sounds like you're a stalker when you phrase it like that," she says thoughtfully, sipping her drink. "Well, a bit creepy, anyway. You should phrase it like 'I've come here before and I've saw you, and I fancied a conversation' or something like that." Her tone was teasing and light.

"Well, I've come here before and I've saw you, and I fancied a conversation."

She smiles. "And what is it, Mr. Weasley, do you want to talk about?"

And we talk. We talk for ages. We talk about trivial things, about the mysteries of life, about everything. We talk until we're the only ones left in the cafe, until an employee clears his throat and announces they were closing for the day. I hold the door open for her and we head out into the street. She knows the streets much better than I do-I make up a garbled excuse that I had just moved here-and we walk under the streetlights until we come to a park.

"How old are you?" she queries.

"Nineteen," I say.

"Me too."

"Where did you live before now?"

"The country," I say vaguely.

"Do you go to one of the universities here?"

As foreign as that sounds, I say, "No," thinking that would be safe.

"I do. I train here, too, but I'm from South Hampton."

"Train for what?"

"I skate," she explains. At my blank look, she adds impatiently, "Iceskating, competitively. I'm quite good, actually."

"I invent," I say quietly as we walk beneath the trees.

"That's fascinating," she says with a smile. She glances at her watch. "Shoot, it's getting late. Look," she says, looking earnestly up into my eyes, "Why don't you meet me tomorrow at that cafe, at around noon?" she suggests.

"Okay," I agree. It takes me a moment to realize what I was doing-getting a date with a Muggle... If Fred could see me, what he would say...

It doesn't matter what Fred would say, I tell myself fiercely, because he never told me how he and Verity went and shagged and she got pregnant. You'd think some things would be important enough to even mention to your twin brother, but evidently not. Evidently Fred was just keen on keeping me in the dark. So what would it hurt if I had a date with a Muggle? Hadn't Fred and I flirted with a Muggle two years ago over Christmas break at the paper shop?

"Okay," I repeat.


	7. Chapter 6-Solace

Chapter 6-Solace

I'm at the cafe at around eleven-thirty, shuffling a deck of cards. When no one's looking, I whisper a quick spell and they shuffle themselves. At five past noon January steps inside.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologizes. She sits down across from me and gazes at the deck of cards I shuffle in my hands. Quick as a flash, I hold the deck up to her. "Pick one."

She obeys with a smile and picks one out of the deck. I concentrate hard. Last year when Fred and I had been in hiding, we'd picked up Occlumency from Remus. I shut my eyes. She had the three of Spades...

"Put it back in," I say.

"I know how this trick works," she warns.

"I put my own little spin on it," l say with a grin. She sticks the card back into the deck. Under the table, I point my wand at the deck and barely breathe the jinx Fred and I had perfected in our third year. Deftly I reshuffle the cards. Then, I tap my wand. The three of Spades shoots out the deck and I quickly catch it with my other hand. "Is this your card?" I ask, showing it to her. It was the same trick we'd used to get the Muggle girl in the paper shop to look at us and charmed the veela at Bill and Fleur's wedding.

She nods, looking amazed. "How did you do that?"

"Little trick of mine," I say with a grin, pocketing my wand. "So what are we doing today?"

"I've got an idea," she says. She stands and we head outside into the street. "We can walk," she says. "It's not far." She sets off at a brisk pace. Not for the first time I resist the temptation to Apparate.

"So what do you invent, George?" January asks, and her eyes are interested and warm behind her glasses.

"Oh, all kinds of stuff," I say with a faint smile. "My brother and I, we had a joke shop, you see."

"My brother would like that," January says. "He was always a class clown."

"Well," I say, a broad grin now stretching across my face, "Fred and I were. We went to a...private school. Almost got expelled once. We played a prank on the caretaker back when we were twelve..." And I fill her in on the time when Fred and I had dropped Dungbombs in Filch's office and successfully found the Marauders' Map, but I leave out the map part.

"What are Dungbombs?" she asks.

"Stink bombs," I say quickly. "The best kind."

"Hmm. I wish exciting things happened to Bruce and I," she says, and for the first time she sounds bitter. "We lived at an orphanage, you see, and we went to a school in South Hampton... Bruce and I never fit in with them, though." We turn a corner down a busy avenue.

"I have a big family," I say. "Three older brothers, then Fred and I-we were twins, you see-and then I had a younger brother and sister. Lots of competition. One of my brothers turned out to be the biggest prat imaginable. Left home right after he graduated. Don't tell them this, but Fred and I were always Mum's favorite," I say lightly, when really it had probably been Charlie.

"I think I'd like to meet your brother," she says. "He seems quite charming." She smiles at me. She is very pretty, I realize with a pang.

I lower my gaze. "Yeah, well, I'd like to meet him too. He died a few months ago."

"Oh," January says, and we're silent for a few minutes. Then she stops. "Well, here we are!" she says with forced cheer.

I glance up. We were in front of a huge building, but I had no recognition of it. "What is it?" I ask at last.

"Iceskating," January says, and she leads the way inside. She has her own skates and I take my trainers off and put on a pair of ice skates. Sometimes at Hogwarts we would skate when the lake would freeze over, but it was never something like this. I head unsteadily out on the ice rink, keeping close to the wall as she comes by with a smile.

"First time?" she asks.

"No," I say. "But I'm not very, er, balanced. I guess one ear on this side makes the whole difference."

"It's easy when you get used to it," she says.

"Don't you skate?" I ask. "Like, professionally?"

"I compete," she says modestly.

"Well, let's see it," I say with a grin. She skates past several Muggles, turning as she does so now she's backwards. At one corner she performs a jump I wouldn't dare attempt before coming back to stand beside me.

"Impressive," I say. I dare to step away from the wall, and my feet fly from underneath me. If I had had my wand out I probably could have done a Levitating Charm and prevented from hitting the ground. Instead, I hit the ice with surprising force. "Dammit!" I exclaim, pulling myself back up. She laughs, really laughs. Not like the kind you would when you're only pretending to find something funny. I look up and see her grinning-really grinning. It illuminated her face. I make it my goal to make her laugh more often, and stand determinedly.

"You're doing it wrong," she says, and I let her show me how to skate. We skate for several hours until at last she says, "I'll be late to my next class. Why don't we meet again tomorrow?"

"Okay," I say. "I'm free at seven."

"Sounds fine," she says.

"Meet me at the cafe."

"I'll see you then, Mr. Weasley," she answers, grinning. Really grinning, again. Like she genuinely enjoyed seeing me stumble around on ice for two hours. Nevertheless I return it. I watch as she steps out into the avenue, hails a taxi, and goes. She waves at me and opens the door of the cab before being whisked away by the cab.

I feel the smile gradually slide from my face, but it didn't stop the elation bubbling inside me from ceasing. Because I knew what January was now. She was my... My solace, from Oliver pressing me to become who I had once been, my solace from all the lies spoon-fed to me from my family, and most refreshing, from the harsh memories and secrets Fred had chosen not to take to the grave.

I found myself greatly anticipating meeting her tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 7-Disgruntled Dating

Chapter 7-Disgruntled Dating

"Hey, would you mind not going to the Three Broomsticks tonight?" Oliver asks, glancing up from where he was surveying a book on my shelf.

"Huh?" I ask, looking up abruptly from where I was mixing potions for a new product we were considering. We were at the flat above Zonko's after Quidditch practice, in which Oliver had invited himself over. "Why?"

"I got a hot date," he says, flashing me a good-natured grin. "I don't want you singing Odo the Hero or getting drunk while I'm there. Bad first date, you know. Kills the mood."

"Okay," I say. "Sure, whatever. Who is it?"

"Who's what?" he asks blankly, dropping a book onto the floor. The love potion I had been pouring into the flask spills onto the floor as I flinch from the sound.

"Your date?" I wipe off the counter. "Merlin, I never thought I would be talking like a woman."

"Yeah, you sound a lot like Ginny now."

"Well?" I add impatiently.

"Katie Bell," Wood says, and this time he averts his eyes and his ears turn pink.

"You're kidding," I say, and the flask falls this time and shatters from my surprise. "That's hardly a first date. You two, er, hooked up there for a time before you left Hogwarts."

"No we didn't," he says, and this time he's scarlet.

"You two did have a thing going on for a while."

"We never hooked up," he says, snapping the book shut so hard the spine falls off. "_Reparo_," he mutters, pointing his wand at the book. He still doesn't meet my eyes. "We never, so to say, did the deed at Hogwarts."

"And you did after you left?" I echo, incredulous. "Or here on a weekend at Hogmseade?"

"You know," Oliver says, shoving the book into the shelf, "I think you should let Lee start working at the store."

"You two shagged?" I demand, ignoring the comment about Lee. "And you call this a first date?"

"I didn't- We never- We never slept together!" he exclaims, flustered. Wood is a bad liar.

"Well no, people tend to be awake when they have sex," I reason, smirking.

"Just stop, please. No, we never had sex and all we did was go to Hogsmeade a few times on the weekend trips," Wood says.

"Well, I won't be at the Three Broomsticks tonight," I say, ignoring his last comment. "I have a date tonight as well."

"Certainly not here in Hogsmeade, I hope?" Oliver asks, suddenly looking alarmed.

"Of course not. I've been seeing a Muggle."

He look even more disturbed. "You can't possibly be serious."

"I am," I reply, listless to the disbelief in his voice.

"Fred wouldn't want that," he insists. "He'd rather you go on a date with a witch. Hell, he'd rather you date a hag."

"I don't think so," I say, examining the broken flask and determining if it could be salvaged. "He flirted with his fair share of Muggles. Probably snogged a couple, too. Who knows? He might have another kid by one. Reparo," I mutter, and the flask comes back together perfectly.

"Yeah, but it's dangerous." He looks extremely serious now, all pretext of him sleeping around with Katie Bell gone. "You don't even realize."

"So you think she's probably just a stray Death Eater in disguise?" I answer scathingly. "Yes, she sure looks likes Dolohov in disguise, I suppose I should mention it to Harry. She has that Malfoy look about her as well. Maybe I should call Draco, see if it's his long-lost cousin."

"Well, I'm sure Fred wouldn't approve of you getting serious with a Muggle."

"Maybe I don't care what Fred would think," I retort, my voice suddenly cold. "Obviously he didn't care what I would think when he had an affair with his employee. And I never said we were serious."

"I see," he says frostily.

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do."

"And did Verity tell you when she found out she was pregnant?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" Oliver asks hotly, standing up now.

"Because obviously if she told you she at least cared if you thought she was a whore," I snap, frustration and anger rising inside me."Whereas Fred didn't care if I hated him."

"Verity's not a whore," he snaps.

"Believe what you want to believe," I say, raising my voice.

He meets my eyes with steely gray ones. "He was just trying to protect you. You know that White woman who killed? She was Verity's landlady."

I give a manic laugh. "Yeah, sure. Protect me from what? The truth? Heartbreak? You? A relationship with my own nephew?!" I slam the flask hard against the table. It shatters again. "Well, he sure as hell failed miserably!"

"You don't understand," Oliver mumbles. "You miss him, you're still his brother, you're just grieving-"

"No, you don't understand! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO HAVE SOMEONE YOU LOVE DIE!"

"Don't I?" he asks softly. "Aren't I seeing someone dying right now?"

"No, you don't know. You don't know anything. I'm perfectly capable of dying by myself without you butting in."

"Listen, George-"

"Get out of my house," I say, and this time I raise my wand threateningly. "Get out of my house and go."

"George, I didn't mean nothing by it-"

"You didn't?" I ask contemptuously. "I don't care. Why don't you go and fuck Katie, I bet you'd have fun doing that, wouldn't you? Might be just as fun as coming up here and pretending you know what I'm going through. Now go."

"If it makes you feel any better," he shoots over his shoulder as he makes his way to the door, "Verity wanted me to tell you today."

"That makes my day," I spit. "That she was so gutless she wouldn't do it herself. Have fun screwing Katie."

He seems at a lost for words and slams the door behind him so hard a picture falls off the wall. I pick it up and stick it back on. It's of Charlie, Fred, and I. Charlie had a flute of something fizzy raised and looked extremely drunk, but then, ever since he turned seventeen he had been fond of a bottle and was no stranger to hangovers and waking up in unexpected places. Fred was grinning, two fingers raised to his mouth to wolf-whistle, and I had a kind of wild look in my eyes. I was probably just as intoxicated as Charlie. As I stare at it, Charlie slops his drink down himself, making Fred recoil.

I almost laugh. I wish we had a portrait of Fred, an enchanted one I could talk to about Oliver and January and Eros and Verity. We could gossip like old women about Katie Bell and blackmail Harry about treating Ginny good. But those would be hard to make. And I almost Apparate to Knockturn Alley to find someone to make one-surely someone in Knockturn would know how, they were easier to make than a simple potion, according to Kingsley. But then I remember I didn't like Fred anymore, didn't even want to see him ever again, not even in death, after his betrayal.

I swallow hard and put the picture back up. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so hard on Oliver. Then I shake my head and go to ready myself for my date with January.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Aries stood in the window, overlooking the street with hungry eyes. He had done his homework well. Old Sarah White had been more than willing to give up her information on the tenant to the little Shacklebolt boy who had lived next door during childhood, especially when he used the Cruciatus Curse for extra measure.

As he watched, a door to a boutique opened. A woman with short blonde hair stepped out, clutching something close to her chest. Aries squinted. He determined after several moments of observing the tenderness of which she treated the object that it was an infant.

He followed the woman's movements until she disappeared into a shop across the street. He didn't move his eyes from the window until she came back out and disappeared back into the boutique. He could see the baby's head. Its hair was almost an unnatural shade of bright red.

Aries exhaled, but he couldn't curb the excitement blooming in him. It made his insides feel queasy, made him grip his wand tightly. They had found him! They had found the son!

He stepped away from the window and sat down. He pointed his wand at the curtains and they flew over the window, obscuring most light. It had been a long time since Aries Shacklebolt had felt this elated. In fact, he had been quite depressed to find that his brother, whom he had long been fighting with had become the Minister of Magic. If anyone deserved the position, it was most certainly not Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Muggle-lover. His brother would have been a Mudblood in a different life.

This certainly changed his mood.

Kingsley had been a good Auror, and was now proving to be exactly what the British wizarding community wanted-Minister, smart enough not to pick a fight with the Brazilian Ministry of Magic, brutal enough to order the executions of former Death Eaters and administer the Kiss onto them. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a God-given hero to nearly everyone.

Everyone but his brothers.

Aries was plotting revenge against his always-noble brother. But this... This was better.

Aries and Kingsley's youngest brother was Orin. While Kingsley had dawdled in Defense Against the Dark Arts and kissed up to all the professors, Aries and Orin had done quite the opposite. Both had become Death Eaters by the time they left Hogwarts. And then, in the infamous battle at Hogwarts, a petty nineteen year-old had killed Orin. In retaliation, the boy had been killed.

And now... Now he had found the son. He was only one part of it, but a major detail in another plan nonetheless.

Now all he needed was the brother. For safer measures he contemplated getting rid of anyone involved with Fred and George Weasley, but obliterating the entire family would be hard. Perhaps the living remnants of Fred? George would be easily lured in if he found that someone he loved was in danger. Perhaps, if Fulvia's information was correct, they could use the Muggle too...

He smiled again to himself. This was proving to be much easier than he had expected.


	10. Chapter 9-Reflections and Preparations

Chapter 9-Preparations and Reflections

"Hello Mr. Weasley," January says, smiling at me from where I was shuffling my cards. I spin one of the cards on top of my finger and flick it through the air to her. "How do you do that?" she asks, barely concealing the look of amazement on her face.

"Secret of mine," I say. "Pick a card." I was still a little peeved by my conversation with Oliver Wood this morning.

She obliges and pulls one out. I focus my mind on Legilimens required for the trick. She had a seven... A seven of hearts...

"Put it back in," I say. I split the deck and begin to shuffle the cards in her direction. I tap my wand against the table. As I shuffle the deck, one shoots out and lands just in front of her.

"Is that your card?" I ask.

"Yes," she says. "That's a very good trick. So where are we going today?"

"Well," I say, "I, being unsuccessfully as creative as you, and much more boring, have decided that we are going to have dinner."

"And I, being very modest to your compliment, feel that dinner would be quite enjoyable," she answers.

"Well," I reply as we head outside of the cafe, "my tailbone is still sore; I find it very hard to sit."

"You're very charming, you know it?" she asks with a faint smile.

"Of course I know it," I say jokingly. "How else do you think I look this good?"

Since I have no idea if Muggle humor is very different from wizard humor, I don't find it safe to tell the joke about the hag, the vampire, and the bartender to her. We walk down several blocks before finding it. It was a very nice restaurant. I lead the way to the front and say to the hostess, "I believe we have reservations under Weasley."

The hostess looks very annoyed-possibly she's having a particularly awful workday-and clicks around on the Muggle computer with the ferocity of someone who was planning mass genocide. "Follow me," she says, picking up a couple menus and leading the way to a booth.

"This is very nice," January says. "Really, it is."

"Thanks," I say, feeling the knot in my stomach somewhat loosen.

"Would you like any drinks? Perhaps an appetizer to start you off?" a bored waiter asks.

"I'll take a beer," I say. "Your finest, if you will."

"Make that two," January pipes up. The waiter walks away and we open our menus.

"This is all very expensive," she says nervously. "I can pay for my own."

"No," I say, looking up. "I've got money for it. Trust me."

"Okay," she says after brief hesitation. We order. The waiter takes our menus.

"How do you do that cart trick?" she asks.

"Targeted guessing," I say which basically sums up Legilimens. "Memorizing a whole deck."

"That was a very good trick," she reasons. "Why haven't you been doing any more shows?"

"I've had a lot of stuff on my mind," I say evasively. "Been really busy."

"Me too," she says. "I've hardly got time for anything, between my classes and training and competing."

We talk. I tell a few jokes. She laughs-really laughs. It lights up her face, makes her blue eyes crinkle in the corners of her glasses. When the waiter brings us our food, we eat and talk. She seems so genuinely happy, as if it were a pleasure to be in my company... And the best thing was, I could be me. I didn't have to wait on Fred, I could be who I was, I could talk as if Fred had never existed, as if Death Eaters had not killed him.

I pay after the meal and we hail a cab. "I can take you to your house," I say. "I can get a taxi home," I say. She smiles and nods. She smiles a lot.

I pay the driver and I get out to walk her to her dormitory.

"I had a lot of fun," she says, getting her keys ready to go inside.

"Me too," I say. I know how women are. Witches and Muggle women and even veela did not differ much when it came to things like this. I lean forward, and we're separated by mere inches.

"I like you," she says softly, standing on her tiptoes, bridging the gap between us as our lips meet. Her lips taste sweet, better than love potion. My arms go around her, one on her shoulder and the other on the small of her back. We break apart, and I look down into her eyes.

"Do it again," I say, tilting her head up so that I can see her eyes close before we meet again, her lips melting into mine. "When can I see you again?" I ask when we break away.

"I'm free Monday," she offers.

"Okay," I say. "Monday-at five? Cafe?"

"I'd like that," she says, a smile on her lips. "I really would, George."

"I'll see you then, Miss Watson," I say.

"You too, Mr. Weasley," she says, opening the door. I stand outside for at least ten minutes after she's gone to her apartment, still feeling he pressure of her lips on mine, imagining the way she laughed, a high, short laugh.

"Screw Oliver Wood," I say aloud before walking down the steps, unable to take the grin off my face.

"Our first match of the season is coming up," Themis Zuckafoose announces, "Saturday. Two days away against Scotland. Scotland is known to beat us every so often. However," she goes on, her voice growing stronger, "this year we have had several training, er, incidents. The Healers at St. Mungo's say that Zachary Gillman is making a good recovery, thanks to Skele-Gro, but the Bludger that hit Phileos Agape was enchanted, and he they say his coma is not a coma, but a strong, well-aimed Hypnos Jinx. They can't use a counterjinx, out of fear it would cause him to grow a third leg as a complication. They expect this Hypnos Jinx to wear off after around Christmas."

"Makes a lot of sense," Boreas Hollis pointed out snidely, "since he missed practice every other day." He gave Wood a high-five. They were both smirking. I take it Phileos was not a well-liked person, if his own teammates had tampered with the Bludgers to put him in a coma.

We were in the locker room, where Themis, our team captain, was explaining several plays on the chalkboard. She taps the board with her wand. Fourteen dots popped up, and when I squinted, I realize they were actually names.

"Scotland has signed on Draco Malfoy as their new Seeker since Amadeus was, to put it nicely, ripped limb by limb with several illegal hexes until sentenced to Azkaban by the Death Eaters, where he managed to regenerate his legs-he had some vampire blood in him, apparently-and broke out. Since then, he has been missing, and from what I understand, the trail goes cold around Salem, no doubt where he is trying to break into the Salem Witchcraft school and find some, er, tasty vampire prey. I don't know how this Malfoy boy plays, but he came straight from Hogwarts." She talks with the distracted air I had found belonged in ever Quidditch captain I had ever known, as if the tortures of a good Seeker meant nothing but perhaps a better season turnout, although in the year Charlie had been Captain he had been much more severe with his pep talks.

"I know how," I pipe up. "He's decent, but he's no Harry Potter. Lachesis can beat him," I add confidently, nodding to our Seeker. "He should be in Azkaban."

"Good. We can turn him into the Aurors after the match," Themis says. She taps her wand again on the board. The dots began moving. "Lachesis will be looking for the Snitch while we score. Wood, you will need to be on your best, Scotland has a good offensive Chaser..."

We spent the next hour practicing the play she was showing us before heading back to the locker room to see her examine several more plays. We practice until the evening.

Boreas slaps me on the back. I suddenly remember him, when I had been a first year on the Gryffindor team, he had been a fourth year on the Ravenclaw team, and how Skylar had thrown a fit when we lost to them. "We'll be unbeatable," he says with a grin. "You're one of the ruddy best Beaters we've had in a long time."

"Thanks," I say. It was true, though. Boreas was a good Beater, but even he seemed to realize I had a gift few possessed.

I Apparate to the Three Broomsticks after practice, before Wood can stop me to yell again. This time I appear inside the pub, almost on top of Rosemary, who shrieks and drops the plates she had been carrying. "Reparo," she mutters, pointing her wand at a porcelain fragments. One of the shards gave a feeble wiggle and hit the ground again.

"Let me do that," I offer, feeling guilty that I'd frightened her. I point my wand at the mess and the plates reform into a neat stack. I see her cheeks flush and she scampers out of sight.

Rosmerta comes out with a bottle of firewhiskey and sets it in front of me. "You haven't been here for a while, George."

"Can I have some summer stew with this?" I ask pleasantly. She waves her wand and a bowl of rice covered in vegetables and broth appears.

"You're my most loyal customer," Rosmerta chides. "Where've you been?"

"Found a girl," I say quietly. At her delighted shriek I feel blush climbing up my neck.

"You're only nineteen, too young to get married," she insists.

"We aren't married, just seeing each other," I say quickly.

The news of my love life seems to have cheered her up some, and she takes a seat next to me, as the pub wasn't crowded. Rosemary comes by and picks up several plates.

"Hasn't Hogwarts started?" I ask, watching the girl. She had to be around thirteen.

"Yes," Rosmerta says, her eyes wary.

"And Rosemary-?"

"She's a Squib," says Rosmerta with a sigh. For the first time I notice lines around the pretty waitress's eyes. She was older than she looked, or she had her daughter right when she left Hogwarts. Rosmerta rolls a cigarette between her fingers and raises it to her lips. She blows out a thin stream of smoke. "So who's this girl? I know her?"

"Doubt it," I answer. "She lives in London."

"There are a lot of wizarding families in London," Rosmerta mutters. "Vanes, Potters, Minos, Gablers, Hopkirks, half the Ministry lives in London."

"Yeah," I say, seeing no need to tell Rosmerta who January really was. I drink my firewhiskey and feel the familiar burn down my throat. I'm about to leave when the door opens. Rosmerta springs up to get back to work. I finish off my drink just as the door opens.

It's a girl with long, plaited dark hair. A laugh on her face as she holds the hand of someone behind her. Her smile vanishes when she sees me.

"Hello, Katie," I say softly.

She looks over her shoulder to the person behind her. I know who it is already.

Oliver Wood seems even larger in the pub. He seems almost Hagrid-sized, perhaps five feet shorter, stocky and dense. He meets my eyes and whispers something to Katie. She heads to the counter and sits down along the bar. He makes his way to me.

"Tell her to stay away from me, did you?" I ask savagely. "You've told everyone I'm a loon, haven't you? I don't care."

"No," he says wearily. "I told her I need to talk to you."

"You've got to have someone listening to talk to," I say, standing.

"I have to tell you-"

"Have you ever wondered," I ask softly, looking over my shoulder as I pulled on my cloak, "that you're intruding on my grief?" When he gave no reply, I continued. "Fred died for a reason, Oliver. And I can't understand why. He left me with too much... Too much to work out."

"George-"

"Sirius Black told me, before he died, he said 'there are things worth dying for!' You don't understand, Oliver. Because right now, I would die to trade places with him. Because he... He was something worth dying for. I doubt Verity appreciates my existence."

"George, I do understand, you need to know everything-"

"You shouldn't keep Katie waiting," I murmur, and I head outside. I wait for the door to burst open behind me, but it doesn't. He's not coming. A stiff breeze picks up the edges of my cloak, whipping it around me. I tug my sleeves down and continue walking.

I had meant what I had told Wood. Fred hadn't deserved to die... Or had he? I lower my eyes to the ground as a veiled witch stumbles out of the Hog's Head past me.

"You don't understand-there are things worth dying for!"

Sirius had been right. I hadn't understood. I wonder what he would say now. Would he sneer at my foolishness? I doubt it. Now that I did understand.


	11. Chapter 10-Nemesis and the Snake

Chapter 10-Nemesis and the Snake

"Hello, ladies and gentleman! Welcome to the Opening Match of the International Reserve League, Scotland versus England..." Ludo Bagman's voice rang out through the stadium. Once I would have ran to blackmail him for the money he stole. Now I wanted to thank him and shake his hand. Because of him, Harry had given Fred and I our starting loan.

"Yes, hello there!" A familiar voice, one that made me smile and reminded me of detention with Professor Flitwick. "I'm Lee Jordan, reporting live from the England Reserve International Stadium. Nasty weather for a Quidditch match, isn't it, Ludo?"

I don't hear Bagman's reply, because I push into the locker room. The hum of voices and people outside is muffled by the door. I pull on my robes just as Themis and Lachesis walk in.

"Poor conditions," Themis says grimly. "It's thundering and lightning's flashing. Might start raining here soon."

"Where's everyone else?" I ask.

"Katie and Angelina are warming up," Lachesis says, tugging her braid over her robe. "Practicing scoring. Hollis and Wood aren't here yet."

"When do we start?"

"Half an hour," Themis says. "You can go walk around some. Just be back here in twenty minutes."

"Okay," I say. I head back outside and begin walking the stadium. At the World Cup it had been much fuller. Now scattered witches and wizards sat. Having no destination in mind, I keep walking, one eye on my watch.

"OY! Hey George!"

I whirl around to see Ron grinning at me from where he sat next to Harry. "You never told us you were playing for England!"

"Yeah, I forgot to mention it," I mutter.

"There's quite a few from Gryffindor playing," Harry says wisely. "Wood, Angelina, Katie, and you, right?"

"Yeah. Scotland drafted Malfoy," I say, curling my lip.

"Big deal," Ron says dismissively. "Who's playing Seeker?"

"Lachesis Curio," I say.

"Hmm." Ron doesn't sound impressed, but Harry looks curious.

"Are Hermione and Ginny here?" I ask, glancing around.

"Yes, we are," came a stern voice. I turn around to see my sister standing next to me, her long hair plaited over one shoulder. She was holding a baby. "Bill and Fleur are here somewhere, I saw them with Louis-Alastor. Mighty big, that kid's getting. Looks nothing like Mad-Eye, I don't understand why they named him that, but it's probably quite hard for anyone to look like Mad-Eye without Polyjuice Potion...Well, good luck, George!"

I hadn't seen Bill and Fleur since Alastor had been born. "Who's this?" I ask, looking at the baby, feeling a little bewildered. "You can't have already had the baby, Ginny-"

"No, this is Teddy," she says, laughing. "Teddy Lupin. Harry's godson."

As I look at the kid, he sneezes and his eyebrows turned an astonishingly bright green color.

"When is the baby due?" I ask my sister.

"February. We're going to name it Fred Sirius Potter if it's a boy, and if it's a girl Nymphadora Minerva Potter."

"Oh," I say, trying to keep my voice level. Fred. How many kids were named after my twin? Eros Fredrick... Fred Sirius...

"You must come more often," another voice says near me. Hermione is on my other side. "We haven't seen you in weeks!"

"Yes, I will," I say, now feeling slightly claustrophobic. "I've got to go, the match is about to start." Hastily I make my way away from them back to the locker room. Boreas was testing the bats. Wood was taking his nervousness out on the lockers. Back when he had been Captain, he had shouted when he had been angry. Now he couldn't, not being Captain. Lachesis was watching a Snitch zoom around the room. As it flew past, she stuck up a hand and caught it. Themis was muttering something that sounded like a prayer under her breath. Angelina cursed loudly when she looked at the clock. Five minutes.

Back at Hogwarts, matches hadn't gotten to Fred and I the way they did to other people. We had joked around about them, hadn't been nervous at all. I suppose that had been because it had been the two of us to be distracted. Now I felt sick. I thought I needed to retch. I sit down on the bench as Boreas hands me a bat.

"Well," Themis says. "We've got four minutes left. This is the Opening Match. This is our chance. We need this chance. We've got two Beaters, an excellent Seeker, a fantastic Keeper, and three great Chasers. We sure as ruddy hell are going to win."

"Hear, hear," Boreas says. He alone seemed to be enjoying this pep talk.

"We are bloody going to win this. It's my last year playing before I leave, and we haven't won the Cup while I've been here. For damn sure, we are going to make it to the Cup this year. And it starts beating Scotland out there now."

I glance at the clock. "It's time."

We get on our brooms and open the door. I watch as Lee introduces the Scotland players. When Draco Malfoy touches down on the pitch, Bagman begins with us. "Playing Keeper for England, Oliver Wood!" Wood flies out of the building, around the pitch, before hovering a few feet off the ground near us. "Boreas Hollis, Beater!"

"George Weasley, Beater!"

I fly through the doorway, around the pitch. In the stadium I see Bill, Fleur, and Alastor sitting with Harry, Ginny, Teddy, Ron, and Hermione. I fly around to stop next to Boreas. Bill wolf-whistles. Boreas flashes me a grin. He probably want even nervous.

Bagman continues. "Playing Seeker, Lachesis Curio! Chaser Katie Bell!"

I hear Harry yell, and I'm heartened.

"Playing Chaser, Angelina Johnson!"

A smattering of applause, and Ron cheers loudly. I remember the way Angelina had been a good Captain to him, refused his resignation...

"And England Captain and Chaser, Themis Zuckafoose!"

"Captains, shake hands," the referee says. Themis barely accepts the Scottish Captain's hand, who tries to crush her fingers. They might have been thumb-wrestling. We fly up into the air. The whistle blows. Boreas and I fly around the Chasers.

"And it's Scotland with the Quaffle! Goole with the Quaffle!" Bagman announces.

"Nice pass to Gregor. Fallow with the Quaffle. Goole shoots-nice block from Wood, passes it to Johnson! Johnson with the Quaffle!"

I swing my bat into a heavy metal ball. The Bludger shoots away. I see it hit the Scottish Keeper.

"Nice Bludger from George Weasley to Mersey! Johnson, Bell, Johnson. Zuckafoose! Bell! And Zuckafoose scores!" Lee sounds triumphant.

"Ten to nil, England taking the lead," Bagman chirps.

The whistle blows. I hear Bagman say, "Interesting game this is going to be."

I wince as the first raindrop hits me. I dip my Firebolt down to where Themis sat. "It's raining!" I gasp.

She shakes her head. Her red hair looked even darker now that it was wet. "Regular plays, Weasley!"

I pass Boreas as the whistle blows. He performs the Sloth-Grip Roll and kicks a Bludger. I hear him curse loudly and a dark liquid oozes out of his shoe. I hit a Bludger in the direction of Malfoy, who was suddenly diving. I hit it with all my force, my anger. He had plotted with the ones who killed Fred. He was as much to blame as whoever did kill him. It hits him in the back. He rolls off his broom, grabs his broomstick with one hand. Lachesis soars past him, and I see a glint of silver just out of reach.

I grit my teeth. Harry would have caught it.

Malfoy recovers enough to get on his broom. He flies past me. I jerk my Firebolt in his direction, knocking him off balance. He falls, just for a moment, before the referee slows him with a charm. His Firebolt comes down and he gets back on, looking ashen.

"What's this?" Bagman says. "Looks like George Weasley just tried to intentionally injure another player."

"It would look like that," Lee says darkly. I look over to the press box. Lee looks angry. Upset, even. At me? No, his eyes are on Malfoy. Of course. He was there when Fred died. We knew he had been a Death Eater. "Illegal move there, George. You can only hit with Bludgers."

"Scotland gets a technical shot! Let's see if Goole can make it past Wood."

Themis flies up to me. "What the hell was that, Weasley?" she snarls. "Do that again and you'll be on probation from playing!"

"Goole scores! Ten-ten!"

The rain is falling harder now, in a steady drizzle.

"Bell with the Quaffle! Bell passes to Zuckafoose! Get open, Angelina!" There's desperation in Lee's voice.

"Angelina with the Quaffle-er, Johnson! Zuckafoose! Johnson! Zuckafoose! Bell, who, er, drops it. Andrea Fallow with the Quaffle now, Gregor, Goole, Fallow, Bell. Bell throws-Mersey blocks it!" There's a collective groan from the English audience, cheers from Scotland.

"Goole!" Bagman shouts. "Gregor! Gregor scores! Ten-twenty!"

I grit my teeth as the whistle blows. When it blows again Boreas passes a Bludger to me. I pass it back. We build up its speed. When it comes back to him, he hits it in the direction of Fallow.

"Nice work! The Bludger hits Andrea Fallow, who drops the Quaffle! Johnson! Zuckafoose! Bell! Zuckafoose scores past Mersey!"

I share a triumphant look with Boreas before flying upwards to catch a glimpse of the other Bludger. There it was, zooming past Lachesis, who barely dodges it. I see Malfoy jerk again, on the other side of the pitch from Lachesis. I dive after him. There're no Bludgers in sight, but he sees the Snitch, I see it- He's getting out of reach, he's too fast-

I raise my bat and bring it down on the end of his broom. There's a splintering sound and birch twigs fall. He turns for a millisecond, his hands inches from the Snitch-

I raise my bat again and hit him in the chest. He falls off, but he's only ten feet from the ground. The whistle blows.

"It looks like Weasley has something against the Scottish Seeker," Bagman observes.

"Damn right!" I hear Ron yell, but it sounds muted by the rain.

"It looks like Weasley just saved the game for England, Ludo," Lee retorts coolly. "Still, illegal bat move. Nice Sloth-Grip Roll, though. Technical shot for Scotland."

"Can Gregor get past Wood? Center hoop-Wood saves!"

I hear thunder. I can still see though. Themis flies up to me. "What did I tell you?" she screams. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU?"

"He had the damn Snitch!"

She turns a remarkable shade of purple. "I don't care! You're costing us time! Use a Bludger, not your goddamn bat!"

"Wood saved it!"

"Twenty-twenty!" booms Bagman over the thunder and Themis. "It appears Zuckafoose is having problems with one of her players."

"Get back to the match," Lee says in a bored voice.

Malfoy is back on his feet, looking slightly dazed. I meet his eyes through the hazy rain. You as good as killed him, Malfoy, and I'm going to give you hell for it. He looks away as his Firebolt comes down and he gets on. The whistle blows.

"Goole! Gregor! Fallow! Goole! Fallow! Johnson! Bell! Bell scores! Thirty-twenty!"

Thank God Katie Bell had practiced the plays. If she hadn't it would have been a disaster.

The rain is easing off. One of the Scottish Beaters aims a Bludger at Oliver as the Scottish Chasers come up the pitch. I know they'll score if I don't do anything. I steer my Firebolt in the direction of the Bludger, until I'm in it's path. It hits me in the nose, before I have time to brace myself. I feel blood bubbling up and it gushes, warm down my face. The rain mixes with it and flows down my robes.

Wood blocks the goal.

Themis calls a time-out. She still looks angry, but I think I slightly redeemed myself in her eyes. "Nice one, Weasley," she says grudgingly. "How's your nose?"

"I don't know," I say nasally, trying to staunch the flow by pinching my nostrils shut. It does nothing to stem the blood.

She sighs and pulls my hand off it. "It's broken." She pulls her wand out and touches my nose with it. "Reparo." My nose feels less crooked now. It hadn't been the first time I'd broken it. I feel around the place my ear should be and find it, too, was slightly bleeding.

"I didn't know you could use that on broken bones," I say, touching my nose. It wasn't bleeding anymore.

"I didn't either, but you learn something every day," she says grimly. "Quit dogging that Malfoy kid. It's not like he killed anyone. Only shoot a Bludger at him if he sees a Snitch. Quit hitting him with the bat."

Oh God, there is so much you don't know, Themis. He deserves much worse than getting hit with a Beater's bat.

Boreas limps over, away from his broom, supported between Angelina and Wood, followed by Katie. Boreas towers over both, his head lolling to the side slightly.

"What the hell happened now?" Themis demands. Katie shrugs.

"We've got five minutes," I say.

"I'm well aware, Weasley," Themis snaps. "What happened?"

"My foot," he groans. They sat him down on the ground and he began to pry at his trainer. It was dark with blood. He pulls off his sock. It was bleeding badly. I'm not sure, but I think there was a hole clear through his foot.

"What happened?"

"I kicked a Bludger," he groans.

"Why in the hell would you do that?"

"I don't know," he says. "It was there, and I couldn't reach it with my bat."

"So what do we do now?" Angelina asks defeatedly.

"I can play," Boreas says determinedly.

Themis sighs and points her wand at the wound. It was covered with bandages now. "That'll fix it for a while, until this match should be over. Lachesis, you need to get a grip and find that Snitch. Scotland's playing their best offense I've seen yet. The whole outcome of the season rides on this match. Weasley, if you keep breaking the rules, they'll kick you out, and we can't afford that. What is it with you and that Seeker, anyway?" she demands, glaring at me through stormy gray eyes.

"Nothing," I say, but I see Angelina and Katie exchange knowing looks. They know. Of course they know. They were in the DA, after all. They came to the last battle.

"Fine," Wood says, rescuing me from those memories. But he had been there, too. I think of him carrying bodies with Neville and my stomach hurts.

"We've got," Themis says, pausing to look at her watch, "three minutes left. Boreas, hang in there. We'll get you to St. Mungo's when this is all over. Katie, nice shot back there. Everyone, get drinks and get ready."

I stumble over to the cooler and pull out a water. The rain's almost completely worn off now, but the sky was still dark gray and there was a flash of dull purple-white light in then distance. I find a trash bin next to the locker room and I retch into it, vomiting everything I had eaten for breakfast. Another wave of nausea peaked, and an acid-like liquid made its way up my throat. As I was trying to get rid of the foul taste, the whistle blows again. I groan and lurch over to my Firebolt.

We go up into the air. Whistle. I see the Quaffle leave Themis's hands and Angelina catches it. Then a Bludger hits her, and she drops it, looking surprised but unhurt. Goole catches it.  
Beside me, Boreas teeters on his broom before aiming a Bludger at him.

I feel dizzy as I hear Bagman and Lee dissecting the match. The ground seems closer... Closer...

"What's that Weasley's doing? Trying to crash himself?" Lee says forcefully, breaking me from my trance. The ground had been closer, I had been close to wrecking. I lean over the side of my broomstick and throw up the same fiery liquid. It was the remains of the undigested firewhiskey I'd had last night.

"Both of England's Beaters are now, er, injured. Zuckafoose calls another time out. Score is now thirty-thirty."

What? Scotland had scored in the short time we'd been in the air?

I land unsteadily beside the trash bin. Themis and Angelina cross the pitch to me. "You okay?" Angelina asks, looking concerned.

I nod. In truth, I'm not sure what had come over me.

"Good," Themis says briskly. "I want Boreas on Malfoy. You're on Goole. He's fast."

"I want Malfoy," I say.

Angelina meets my eyes, and I can't read her expression. Disappointment? Anger? Worry? Sadness? She doesn't say anything, and Themis goes on.

"I don't trust you on Malfoy," she says bluntly. "You've got something against him, and I don't care what it is, but you're not on him."

"Fine," I mumble, knowing it was a lost cause for me to argue.

"It's raining again," Angelina mutters, casting a look upwards. As she speaks, I feel a splatter of rain on my face. It's cool and refreshing.

"We'll be fine," Themis says. She begins walking down the pitch to Wood, Katie, and Boreas.

"You sure you're okay?" Angelina asks.

"I'm fine."

"You understand why Themis isn't putting you on Malfoy, right?"

"Because I can't be trusted, can I?" I say angrily, kicking a rock. "Because I'm too much like Fred, is that what it is?"

"George!" Angelina whispers, looking shocked. "Don't say things like that!"

I turn away from her. "There's a lot you didn't know about him."

"There's a lot I didn't know about you," she says, her voice cold as ice.

"It's not like that."

"Oh?"

"Maybe he wasn't the person everyone thought he had been," I say viciously.

Angelina sighs. She looks upset. Of course. We had been in the same year at Hogwarts. We'd had classes together, with Fred. "I miss him, too."

I don't miss him, I think defiantly. I don't. She looks at her watch. "Few minutes left. If you need to puke, do it now."

I don't puke. We head up in the air minutes later. Grudgingly I follow Themis's order and fly with the Chasers, knocking Bludgers out of the way so they can play, aiming them in the direction of the other Chasers. I hear Bagman commentate.

"Zuckafoose, Goole, Fallow, Gregor, Fallow, Gregor, Gregor scores. Thirty to forty. Zuckafoose with the Quaffle now. Zuckafoose, Bell, Zuckafoose, Johnson, Zuckafoose, Zuckafoose ready to score-Mersey blocks it. Goole, Gregor..."

The rain slides down my face with sweat and tears. I'm glad no one can see the tears. Tears I had no way of explaining. I didn't even know why I was crying, but I was. The rain is coming down harder this time, making it near impossible to see. It's just like Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff in my fifth year, when the rain was so bad and Harry fell off his broom. When we lost. When Wood spent so much time in the shower, Fred and I had joked that he'd been trying to drown himself.

I could probably drown in this, I think grimly as my robes lash in the wind. I hit a Bludger in the general direction of which I know Mersey was.

Lee, over the rolling thunder. "Forty to forty! Zuckafoose scores! What a Chaser! You know, Ludo, I remember when she played for Hogwarts. Back when I was only a first year and she was a seventh year, you see, she was the best Chaser Gryffindor had ever had. Made Charlie Weasley proud, when they won the Cup that year. Now it's Goole with the Quaffle..."

From the corner of my eye I see Boreas grit his teeth and raise his bat. A Bludger hits Gregor in the head.

I plunge in front of Angelina as a Bludger flies her way. It hits my ribcage with dull force. I'll probably be bruised tomorrow. Just what I need, when my scars were almost completely gone.

The thunder roars in my remaining ear, the hiss of rain in the background. Deaf on the other side, I don't at first hear the rush of a ball beside me.

Then Draco Malfoy flies past me, Boreas nowhere near him. I turn in surprise to see him, hand outstretched, groping for the Snitch. And I know what I need to do. Not just to win the game. This was some kind of sweet revenge involved for me, for Fred.

"Well, it looks as if Scotland is going to get the win of this match-" Bagman begins.

I throw Themis's rule out the window. I swing my bat low and it strikes Malfoy in the neck. I see Lachesis swoop down and grab the Snitch on her fingertips, just as a Bludger hits me. And then Malfoy and I are spiraling downwards some fifty feet to the ground.


	12. Chapter 11-A Mental Recovery

Chapter 11-A Mental Recovery

I wake to watery sunlight filtering in through the window. It's warm on my face, jarringly unlike the rain from the match.

The match...

We won! I saw it, I saw Lachesis get the Snitch!

But... Where was I?

I open my eyes wider. I'm staring upwards at a whitewashed ceiling. As I stare at it, it transforms to show thick gray clouds.

"Am I," I wonder aloud, "Am I in Hogwarts?"

There's a laugh. I lift my head up and see Mum, Dad, Ron, Ginny, Bill, Charlie, and Percy around my bed. All are exceptionally paler than normal.

"What the-"

"You had quite a fall there," Ron says, grinning, his face flushing with color. "Lee said at least fifty-five feet."

"Am I really so important that Charlie came in? Where am I?" I ask, laughing. I feel an ache in my neck. I force myself to let my head fall back down. It's agonizing. Skele-Gro. "What happened?"

"You're in St. Mungo's, Georgie," Mum says brightly. "Ground floor."

"You broke your neck when you fell, mate," Charlie informs.

"Looked like a mess," Bill agrees.

"You did a ruddy good job, though," Charlie says reasonably. "Themis says you saved the game."

"Let him rest," Mum chides. "You have to be tired, aren't you? I'm going to the tearoom, aren't we, Arthur? We'll be right back, Georgie."

"Hmm? Yes," Dad says. His face, which had been gray and ashen moments ago, was now returned to normal. He pats me on the shoulder with a shaky hand, readjusts his glasses, and turns to follow Mum out into the hall. I see Ron rocking on the balls of his feet, watching them go. Percy stands on his tiptoes and then sighs. He points his wand at the door. "Muffliato."

"Mum's in a right state," Charlie explains to me. "She had a nervous breakdown yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

"Yes, right after the match," Ginny says impatiently. "You've been out ever since the match, so yes, since yesterday."

"Why?" I ask. There's a dull pain behind my temples now. "Why's she so upset?"

"There were a few minutes there," Bill says seriously, "they thought you were going to die. Spinal damage. Only so much you can do with potions. They even tried a few Muggle remedies. Good old Reparo, though."

"Themis fixed my nose with it," I say.

"Well, they fixed your neck with it, too," Ron replies. "That and Skele-Gro. Hermione, Harry, Fleur, and Louis are somewhere around here, too. They want to congratulate you on your big win."

"But that's not why Mum's so upset," says Percy, who for once did not look pompous. He was still rather pale, bloodless.

"What do you mean?" I ask groggily.

"Well," Ginny says, as if talking to a particularly stupid first-year, "it's only been a few months since you-know-what happened, and we haven't exactly gotten over that, and then we thought you were going to kick the bucket, too. Now, we all feel awful about you-know-what, and you going and almost getting yourself killed isn't helping. So Mum-"

"Positively raves about you now," Bill finishes. "Talks about you all the time. Now, losing one son is bad enough, and they thought they were losing you, too."

Charlie nods. "But you haven't been the same without him. None of us have. Mum's in pieces every day. I'm on holiday after we found a Swiss Smokenose in Transylvania last week, and she's been a wreck every day I've been in."

I was beginning to feel sick.

"There's more," Percy adds grimly. "Mum can't believe you tried to kill someone."

"What?"

"Malfoy. He's in here, too. A few wards over. Broken leg and a broken jaw. He's having regrow all his bones from the hip down," Ron says, looking a bit triumphant. "But anyway, it was getting awfully intense with you two, and then Zuckerfoot-"

"Zuckafoose," amends Charlie.

"Right, anyway, she made you get off him, and so now everyone's trying to figure out why you did that," Ron finishes. He looks queasy. "They've got Rita Skeeter in the lobby. Wants to have an interview with both of you."

"Merlin," I say in disbelief. "You-You guys know why I got mad at him, right?"

Percy shares a significant look with Bill. Then Ginny says, "We do, and so does Dad. Mum does, but I don't think she believes you were actually attacking him, or at least, doesn't want to believe it. It's all over the Prophet. Headline."

Bill produces a copy of the newspaper, and I stare in disbelief at it. INSANE BEATER ATTACKS SCOTLAND SEEKER. Beneath is a moving picture of me whacking Malfoy. From this point of view, it looks much more painful.

"They do realize it's Quidditch, right? I mean, injuries happen?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"That's what I thought. But if it all came out he was a Death Eater, there'd be chaos. I mean, the Malfoys aren't as powerful as they were before, but they're still very influential. Not at the Ministry, but everywhere else," Percy says.

"Everyone knows his parents were Death Eaters," I say angrily.

"Yes, but the public doesn't see it like that," Ginny says impatiently. "If you tell Skeeter that, she'll make it look like you're a liar."

"Why don't they just take a look at his arm, huh?" I spit, struggling to sit up. Every movement sends jolts of pain down my back. "That'd make a right nice headline. Scottish Seeker and son of Lucius Malfoy-branded with the Dark Mark? Who'd imagine? I bet he could give us the name of the bastard who killed Fred."

No one says anything for a long moment. Charlie opens his mouth to say something, but at that moment a head pokes through the door. "Bill, can we come een now? Louis eez quite tired now, he eez falling asleep."

Bill blinks. "Oh. Sure. Come on in, honey."

The door opens wider, and Fleur comes in, carrying a baby. It was fast asleep in her arms. Louis-Alastor, my nephew. Fleur sits down on one of the armchairs beside the best. "'Ow are 'oo, George?"

I grin at the absurdity of the question. I'd only just broken my neck. Of course I wasn't fine. "Doing good, Fleur. Are they going to press charges on me?"

"No," says Charlie. "Themis backed you up, said it was just team rivalry. It's not like he died or anything, and even if he had, they wouldn't be able to prove you set out to kill him."

"Did you set out to kill him?" asks Ginny bluntly.

"Of course not," I say, dropping my head back on the pillow. I could always count on Ginny being straightforward.

There's a knock on the door, but before anyone can react, Hermione and Harry step inside.

"Great Lord, am I really this big of a deal?" I joke.

"Mighty nice Beater work out there, George," Harry says.

"It's getting very crowded in here," Percy says irritably. He was between Charlie's elbow and Ginny now.

"Yeah," Bill agrees. "I've got to go, George; Louis should be getting home, he's got a cold, don't want it to get any worse. C'mon, Fleur. We'll try to be back tomorrow."

I watch as my eldest brother leaves with his wife. "Mum and Dad sure are taking their time."

"They'll be here all night," Ron says dismissively. "We'll go see Malfoy soon."

"Why would you want to do that?" I demand.

"Tell him not to tell Skeeter anything," Hermione answers. "I doubt he'd be that stupid though. It'd bring up some interesting questions about why that happened."

"How upset is Mum?"

"Very," Ron says. "She has been for a while, but..."

"This just brought it into, er, the light," Harry finishes hastily.

"I'm a terrible son," I conclude bitterly, staring back up at the cloudy ceiling.

"Cheer up," Charlie says bracingly. "I'm only ever in for weddings and on holiday, they never see me. You can't be any worse than that."

"Or me," Percy adds. "I'm a Ministry-loving prat, remember?"

"Percy, don't pretend to have a sense of humor. Just...don't."

Everyone laughs. I smile weakly and let myself doze back into a peaceful sleep. When I wake up again the clock says four hours have passed. The clouds are still very dark in the ceiling. It's in the evening now. Mum sits in an armchair beside my bed, knitting needles clacking beside her in midair. Dad toys with something in the corner, I think it's called a fellytone. I stare at Mum. Her cheeks were red. Her eyes were swollen, with a faraway look in them as she gazes out the window. I don't say anything. I just watch. I'm not sure she realizes I'm awake. I move my head to the side and am rewarded with an agonizing pain in my neck. I let a small moan escape my lips, and Mum looks up sharply and crouches beside my bed, deathly white. Dad drops the Muggle contraption and pushes his glasses into place. There's no mistaking the anguish, the pity on his face. "You okay, Georgie?" Mum asks softly. Her fear is almost infectious.

"Fine," I mumble. In truth, this was probably the worst I'd physically felt since I was under the Cruciatus Curse.

"There are some people in the lobby here to see you, Georgie," Mum says, in the same quiet voice. "Do you want me to go get them?"

"Who are they?" I ask groggily, wary of Rita Skeeter.

"Lee and a few others," Dad says. He still looked faint. I feel a wave of guilt all over again.

"Sure," I reply. The prospect of seeing Lee and the Quidditch team again seems much more enjoyable than sitting in this tense, uncomfortable silence with Mum and Dad. Mum gets up-I notice a bit unsteadily-and heads out the door.

"How much longer am I going to be in here?" I ask Dad.

"Probably Tuesday or Wednesday," he says. "Skele-Gro's a very slow process, not as long as Muggle splints or casts, but long enough."

Mum returns within several minutes. Right behind her is Themis Zuckafoose, her face split in a grin. Next to Mum, she looks like she could have been our sister, with the same red hair as us. She crouches down next to the bed. "George, we owe you our win," she says. Her eyes are warm. I guess that means I completely redeemed myself in her eyes. She heads over and begins to chat with Charlie, whom she seems to be well acquainted with.

"No problem," I say as the rest of the team filters in. Boreas is on crutches, but he shows me his foot. "Completely healed!" he says. "Still a bit hard to walk on though... They had to use dragon blood, you see, to regenerate it..."

Even Wood was smiling, but it seems more halfhearted. No doubt he was more than concerned that I'd tried to kill someone in public. Lachesis grins at me. "I'd never have gotten the Snitch if you hadn't stopped him," she says.

Lee and I begin a game of Exploding Snap with Boreas and Angelina. Mum watches from where her needles knit beside her with a fond look on her face. Any other time she would have scolded me for making so much noise...

No, I realize dimly. No, she would have yelled at Fred and I for making so much noise, not just me. But that was before... Now she was probably just relieved I was acting like a kid again.

A Healer comes in at eight and runs everyone off. Themis throws over her shoulder that there was practice on Thursday. Mum and Dad hesitate before following the Healer's orders, and I can hear Mum arguing in the hall with the Healer when they leave.

"-his twin died, for God's sake, he and George are cofounders of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, died in the Battle of Hogwarts, he was buried with the Order of Merlin, First Class, by the Order of the Phoenix, cast over by Minister Shacklebolt himself, George hasn't been the same-" That's Dad rambling, his voice shaking. He always rambled when he panicked.

"-very sorry to hear about your loss, Mr. Weasley, but I'm afraid policy is policy-"

"-you're sure we can't stay with him? We're quite worried about him, you know-" That's Mum.

"-Mungo's doesn't allow visitors at this hour, I'm afraid. You can always return tomorrow morning." The Healer sounds slightly exasperated now.

"-he will be fine, won't he?" That's Dad.

"Yes, he will be," the Healer says clearly, her voice curt. "But if I were you, I'd be more concerned for his...psychological health."

I hear footsteps heading away, and I distinctly recognize Mum's sobs. Then I hear a deeper voice. Dad. "I don't think losing Fred has pushed him past the breaking point, Molly. Not yet." His voice cracks with grief, it shakes with sorrow. "He's still our son, even if we don't recognize him and what he does." Mum cries harder. I feel around on the nightstand next to the bed for my wand. I move the Daily Prophet aside and reach blindly around.

Dad goes on. "He's our son. Even if he's not the son we had before. Because when Fred died, a part of George did, too. He could change back into the old George as easily as he changed into this." There's a thread of hope stitched in his voice. "But I love him just the same."

I wave my hand around wildly over the dresser. "Accio wand," I whisper, and I feel the smooth rod fly up into my hand. I point it at the door and instantly everything goes quiet. I can't take it anymore. There's nothing but silence in my ear now, which in itself, is a worst sound than ever. I touch the hole in my head gingerly, almost unconsciously, the way I did when I thought of something that made my blood run cold. I couldn't hear out of it anymore-apparently the curse that had taken my ear had damaged my hearing as well. Absently I stare up at the ceiling. Lightning flashes in its corner, where the wall met the ceiling.

Was it true? Was there really something wrong with me? Yes, I was different, I didn't even have the same personality, but there wasn't anything wrong with me... But something psychological? Was I mental? The Healer seemed to think so.

I don't think losing Fred has pushed him past the breaking point, Molly. Not yet. Dad's voice rings in my ears. Not yet. Did that mean the worst was yet to come? That this was not the worst I was going to feel about Fred?

They don't know. They don't know they had another grandson by a dead boy. They don't know why I was so...so...different.

This is my last thought before I fall asleep.

I'm able to sit up tomorrow, although it's painful. I'm eating breakfast when a Healer bustles in. "You've got visitors, Mr. Weasley!" She holds the door open for Mum and Dad, both of whom promptly sit down in the same spots they had been in yesterday. Percy and Charlie follow more slowly. Percy walks a bit unsteadily and his eyes were rather bloodshot.

I suddenly remember something. January. We were going to have dinner tonight. "Perce, can I use Hermes?"

He scowls slightly. It's good to have the same old Percy back. "Sure," he grumbles. "Just write a letter and address it and I'll send him on his way."

"Can I borrow some parchment and a quill?"

He scowls again, but heads out into the hall and returns with my letter materials. I hastily write the letter and reread it.

January Watson-  
I'm afraid I can't make it to dinner tonight. I'm feeling sick. How about we meet at the cafe on Wednesday, five o'clock? I'm very sorry about all this. Just send your reply back with this owl, or meet me there Wednesday.  
-George Weasley

I don't dwell on the fact that it'd probably be odd to a Muggle to receive postage from a owl. I seal it and hand it to Percy, who heads to send Hermes off.

"What was that about?" Charlie asks curiously.

"I had to reschedule something," I say smoothly. "Anything in the Prophet today?"

"The crossword, that's the only thing worth reading. I wouldn't wipe my arse with this newspaper," Charlie mutters. "Iceland's legendary Seeker, that's Iversnek... Dad, what's a Muggle wand? Kills and injures people? I think it's a fireleg..."

"That's what Kingsley thought," Dad says, almost as if he were teaching someone. "No, it's a firearm, completely different, Charlie."

Charlie frowns, and I'm certain he doesn't believe Dad at the moment, but he fills it out just the same. He flips over the newspaper to an article about a Russian Ridgeback that escaped a circus in France and set a town aflame. He gets very agitated after reading it, the way he does while watching Quidditch matches. I never understood why he hadn't played Quidditch after Hogwarts. He was a superb Seeker and could probably play Keeper-he was big enough; he had taught Wood everything he knew. I suppose when someone really has a passion for something, they follow it, although dragons were an odd thing to fall in love with. Then I reflect it was probably the exotic Romanian drinks he actually got the job for.

Once, Fred and I had had a passion for fun, for the impossibility, for laughter, for opportunity. But now I don't know what that had been. I've hardly shown any interest in the store in the past few months, but that had a lot to do with Verity, too. Fred and I had never done anything separate, apart from him taking Divination while I went to Muggle Studies, so both of us sharing the same career had seemed natural, and doing the things we both enjoyed seemed fit. I think what I had really enjoyed was having the company of my brother. Odd how things work out.

Percy returns after a few minutes, accompanied by Bill, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, all of whom apparently had just gotten to the hospital. Ginny apologized for Harry's absence. "He's working, you know," she explains dismissively. "Got a new lead on someone... He said he might be here later."

I nod absently and finish my breakfast. The only thing to do now is sit in pain as my spine regrows and talk to my siblings. Our conversation is quiet and tense, and Mum continues knitting sweaters, every so often glancing up at me with a worried look on her face. If Fred and I had been in an awkwardly silent room before, we would break the ice, tell jokes, just make someone happy. That was why people had loved Fred and I. We had humor when everyone else had already turned into the shadows. If Fred were here, it would not be this tense. Even when I had lost my ear, I had managed to put a positive spin on it. But that had been because I'd known he had been listening, would agree with me.

Would Fred be this utterly miserable without me?

You don't care about Fred anymore, I think fiercely. He didn't care about you.

Was Oliver right? Was there really a reason he hadn't told me, for my own good?

Of course not, a part of me argues. Because obviously if Fred had good intentions, he would have foreseen the trouble he was causing. Even if we'd only gotten three O.W.L.s apiece, that much should have been obvious. Besides, even our we'd had poor grades, we weren't stupid.

What if there's more you don't know? What if he died with more to say to you?

Good riddance, I think bitterly, but the idea instantly makes me go cold. I sink deeper under the white sheets. The effort leaves me gasping for breath, my neck stiff and every jolt like fire. It takes me almost twenty minutes to get settled down comfortably. The only sound is the sheets and blanket moving and the clock ticking.

"Do you want me to help you, Georgie?" Mum asks, biting her lip. It was like I was a kid again, overly dependent on her. Everyone looks up, a bit surprised to find that someone was actually talking.

"I can get it," I say, gritting my teeth as my face grew hot. There was no way I was letting her tuck me into bed in front of my whole family. I thrash for a few more excruciating minutes before giving up.

"You sure?" Ron drawls, faintly smirking. He'd gotten his sarcasm from Fred and I, but he had a temper and snideness that was almost nonexistent in every other Weasley, at least, when we were in good moods.

I give him the finger as Mum turns around to focus on her knitting. "Ickle Ronniekins," I say venomously. I see Hermione's smile dissolve into a thin line. It's good to see someone hasn't changed.

Dad clears his throat. "You know, Molly, why don't we head to the tearoom? I'm sure George wants to catch up with the others."

I see Ginny considerably brighten, and Bill scratches his scarred face. I hold my breath as Mum hesitates. "I don't know," she says. "You'll be okay, won't you, Georgie?"

Ron snickers. Hermione stamps on his foot. "I'm not a child," I say to Mum, a definite edge in my voice.

She blinks. "I know, honey," she says. "I suppose so, Arthur, we'll be back in an hour or so..." When she leaves, Bill says, "She'd never do that before."

"What can I say? I'm her favorite," I say.

"Mum says you're engaged now, Charlie," Ron accuses.

"Did she? Well, I'm not," Charlie says coolly. "Emily does not, apparently, think that my career is, er, suitable for her husband. No loss, though. The women here are much prettier than in Romania."

I aim my next question at Percy. "What happened to you? You look hungover."

He glares at me. "I am."

"Wow, Perce, I didn't think Head Boy was supposed to drink anything stronger than butterbeer."

He turns red and mumbles something inaudible before leaving the room. I raise an eyebrow. Charlie sighs. "You're a git, George."

"What happened?"

"Penelope broke off the engagement," Ginny says. "Yesterday."

"Wow," I manage, taken aback. "I almost feel guilty."

Hermione gives me a withering look.

"It's not as if he doesn't deserve it," I retort.

"He's been living with Mum and Dad ever since, well, you-know-what," Ginny says reprovingly. "Mum wasn't stable there for a while, George, you prat. He was very upset after the match."

"You know who else was very upset after the match?" Charlie asks, in an almost faraway voice as he gazes out the window.

"Obviously I don't know. I was unconscious, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Angelina," he says distantly. "She was in a right crying state."

I see Ginny and Hermione share a significant look. Then Hermione begins carefully, "George, we were wondering... Did Fred and Angelina...have something going on?"

Is that what they were worried about? Gossip? I feel white-hot rage building up I me. It must show on my face, because Hermione goes on quickly. "Not that it matters, but remember when Tonks was always moping over Lupin? She got sick."

"If you haven't noticed," I say hotly, "Lupin wasn't dead then. There's nothing I can do about Angelina. Nothing."

"I'm sorry," Hermione says in a small voice. "We were thinking-well, you can die from a broken heart, you know, and they dated for a while at Hogwarts."

"Then Angelina will have to die of a broken heart, because there's no way I can even possibly even attempt to raise my brother from the grave," I snap, ignoring Ginny and Hermione's horrified looks. "Would it be better if I just name off all the women he's slept with? Then you can hunt down the poor girls and tell them what a foolish, awful mistake they made in falling in love with the ba-"

"That's enough," Bill interrupts quietly. I look over at him. He didn't look angry, but there was something in his voice that told me I'd just stepped over some invisible line. "We've got important things to talk about."

The door opens again and Percy comes back in, still red in the face. "Sorry," I apologize to him, and meaning it.

Bill goes on. "The truth is Mum and Dad are not as young as they were before, and you-know-what has caused them to, er, age faster. Fleur thinks it would be a good idea for one of us to stay at the Burrow with them at all times."

"Well, Percy lives with them," Ron points out amiably.

"Yes," Percy says impatiently, "but I'm not always there. I've got work."

"So does Dad," Ron answers.

"Fleur thinks," Bill breaks in, "that if someone stayed with them the whole time they would feel less...lonely."

"So what does she's suggest?"

"Well, you see, Percy stays with them, and so does Charlie when he's in, but he's leaving next week and won't be back till Christmas for Ron and Hermione's wedding," Bill explains. "And Fleur takes Louis over to visit once a week, but Mum's got a lot of time by herself. Ron stays with them," he adds, shooting a quick look at Hermione, "when he's not, er-"

"We aren't fornicating, if that's what you're suggesting," Hermione interrupts, her voice frosty. "For your information, he stays with Harry and Ginny while I stay with my parents."

Bill goes red and becomes immensely interested in his ponytail. The he says, "That's not the implication, Hermione."

"I can come in more often," Ginny says brightly. "Besides, another grandkid has to boost their spirits, right?"

I laugh, and I'm not sure why. "Ginny, you've changed so much in the past few months."

"Now, George," Bill begins, "the Healers here recommend you not stay by yourself for a few days, and while that's possibly exactly the thing you were planning, it would be very good if you stayed with Mum and Dad."

"Yeah, okay," I say. "Sure."

"Then that's settled," Bill decides. He looks me square in the eye. "They're quite worried about you. Try putting some effort in."

I do, I think, but Fred seems to have put more effort in other things...


	13. Chapter 12-The Pedestal

Chapter 12-The Pedestal

I'm discharged from St. Mungo's the next day. There's still a dull ache in my neck, but considering I had almost died Saturday, I figured it had been a swift recovery. Mum, Dad, Charlie, and Percy come to help me home. We were taking a Portkey from the waiting room. When we're in the ground floor waiting room we join the line in front of the desk to get our Portkey. Charlie elbows me and nods towards the staircase. I turn around to see Draco Malfoy on crutches between his parents. Lucius Malfoy looked thinner than the last time I'd seen him. Narcissa looked around nervously. Draco stops when he sees me, and there's something I don't recognize on his face. Narcissa looks at him anxiously and asks him something, and Draco shakes his head and continues to move. Lucius sees me and hesitates. I curl my lip and content myself with a rude hand gesture when Mum and Dad were talking to the witch at the desk.

Draco keeps moving towards me. He stops just in front of me and Charlie and Percy, both of whom now wore scowls. I kept my fist clenched over my wand underneath my cloak.

"I deserved that," Malfoy says. His tone wasn't remorseful or guilty; he was merely making a statement. "All of this, actually."

"That's right," I say, my voice dangerously soft. "Are you so thick it's taken you this long to figure that out? Or did I knock some sense into you?"

"You play a good Beater," he says levelly. "I found that out firsthand."

"You're lucky I used my left hand," I say coldly. "If I'd used my right arm I doubt you'd be awake yet."

"I guess I am lucky, then," said Malfoy. "I don't quite look forward to the time we have to meet again on the pitch."

"You shouldn't."

"As I doubt I will be playing Quidditch next year," Draco says, "I'd like to apologize on behalf of my family to the Order of the Phoenix, and more specifically, you and your family."

I see Lucius and Narcissa on the other side of the room, watching apprehensively. "I don't want to make things right with you, or your parents," I say. My voice is flat. It doesn't sound like mine. "I'd rather see you locked up in Azkaban with a life sentence."

He shrugs, raises an eyebrow, and then resumes his previous expression. "We deserve worse than that."

"Got that right," I snap.

He studied me, his gray eyes skimming over my face. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I-I tried to get out, believe me, I didn't want this." For the first time his voice shakes.

"Didn't you?" I snarl. Charlie grabs me by the shoulder to keep me from ripping him apart, which hurts my regrown spine, and Percy grabs me by the other side. They try to pull me away, but I fight their grips and try to lash out. Malfoy doesn't even flinch. He shifts on his crutches, but he doesn't flinch. Possibly, since I have attacked him now at several Quidditch matches, he was expecting it.

"Go to hell," I spit. "Go to hell and burn with whatever's left of Fred!" Mum and Dad are still deep in conversation with the witch at the desk. I see Malfoy's eyes widen with surprise. He hadn't expected that. He had expected to get a broken nose. I feel Charlie's hand closes around my arm forcefully, and Percy yanks me back. Mum and Dad don't notice as they pull me off to the side and we sit down in chairs on the other side of the room. Fuming, I watch as Draco hobbles behind his parents in line.

"What in bloody hell..." Charlie hisses. He looks furious. "What are you thinking?"

"He provoked me," I say through gritted teeth.

"To me it seemed he was apologizing," Charlie shoots back. His face was red. I don't reply.

"We're talking about this later," he says, with an air of finality I had grown accustomed to when we had played Quidditch together over summer break. Charlie always had the final say, mostly because he was bigger than all of us and could probably beat Bill, Fred, and I up at the same time. This time I stay mutinously silent. I see Percy's face. The fear is unmistakable in his eyes. Was he scared...of me? Of what I'd said?

Mum and Dad return a few minutes later carrying a chipped old mug. Mum is more cheerful than I have seen her since I'd been at St. Mungo's. We all touch a piece of the mug, and for a few seconds of nothingness we stand stupidly in the room before finding ourselves outside of the Burrow.

Dad whistles a tune as he fishes around for his wand. He points it at the door and it swings open. We head inside and I sit down on the sofa as a headache begins to pulse at my temples. I hold my hand over the hole in my head, trying to stop the pain. Mum doesn't notice as she heads to the kitchen, humming. She seems so...happy. Happiness was mostly foreign to me now.

"I'm going to go for a walk outside," Percy says. "Anyone want to come? We can go hunt down some garden gnomes."

Percy wasn't very good at making up scenarios. I share a grin with Charlie before saying, "Yes, I'd like to see the garden again."

"M'kay," Dad says, looking up from the Daily Prophet crossword. "Yeah, go on out, whatever..." He becomes preoccupied with eight across, and the three of us slip outside. None of us says a word until we're certain Mum and Dad won't be able to hear.

"Do you realize what you said in there?" Charlie asks at last.

"Yes." I stare at a lawn gnome as it leapt behind a shrub.

Percy shudders. "Why did you say that?"

"It's hard to explain."

"He's our brother, too," Charlie says.

"He had..." I grope for the right word, "secrets."

"You smarted off to Bill yesterday about him," Percy states.

"You two wouldn't understand," I say. "Fred and I did everything together. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to be...here, without him, but he evidently could.

"What in the name of Merlin's beard are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

"Well, I'd be careful to steer clear of any difficult topics," Percy says wryly.

"So you don't want to talk about how you put Fred on the same pedestal as Draco Malfoy?" Charlie asks.

It hits me that that was what I had done, but I don't miss a beat. "No, I don't want to talk about it."

"Try not to blow up on Mum," Percy advises. "She'll lose it."

"I'm sorry about all this."

"Try to sound like it," Charlie snaps.

"I thought I did," I say defensively.

"Well, you don't," Percy says.

"It would be helpful," Charlie begins, "if you at least told us what these 'secrets' were."

I don't say anything for a while, just stare at the garden. It's nearly October. Someone needs to pick the squash from its patch.

It would make it easier if I told them. They might be more sympathetic and advising than Oliver Wood, who hounded me to go see them. I hesitate some more. I don't want to ruin their definitions of Fred, like Wood had mine. But I I was so deep in hell, floundering for the shore, the shore of comfort, life, forgetfulness. I was selfish enough to spoil their eulogies.

I take a deep breath and don't look at either of them. "Fred...has...a...son." Each word is drawn out of me in painful breaths. The effect is almost immediate. Charlie's jaw drops in disbelief, his eyes wide. Percy actually flinches. I don't meet their eyes. It's the first time I've actually told someone else, and I wander off a little ways and throw up in the direction of a gnome. It recoils and jumps under a fern. My mouth tastes like bile, either from what I had just told or the vomit, or both. I feel tears spring to my eyes, and I try to stop them, but I can't. They run warm down my face. After about ten minutes, or maybe ten years, Percy and Charlie join me. I try to compose myself.

"Are you the only one who knows?" Charlie asks quietly.

"Oliver Wood knows. He was the one who told me." My voice doesn't belong to me. It sounds nothing like I normally do. Charlie's eyes fill with surprise. There for a while, Wood had been like his brother, with all the help he'd given him in Quidditch. "Wood's sister is the mother," I say.

"Which sister? He has four," Percy points out. His voice shakes.

"Verity. Fred...never...told...me," I gasp.

Charlie closes his eyes and exhales. You'd think someone six years older than me would be more experienced in a situation like this. His breath rattles. "We can't tell anyone," he says at last. "You realize that, right? I wouldn't go see them for a while, at least..."

"Why not?"

Percy looks just as confused as I feel. Charlie goes on. "It would probably kill Mum. That she's got a grandson she's never met, and that he'll be growing up without a father."

"Don't remind me."

"What about Ron, Bill, and Ginny?" Percy asks.

"Not Ginny," I say instantly, feeling a protective surge for my sister. "Not yet. It's probably unhealthy for pregnant women to receive big shocks like that."

"Well, we should tell Ron and Bill," Percy says.

"I don't know," Charlie reasons. He seems less surprised now and more matter-of-fact. "I doubt they'll take it well. Ginny and Ron were really close to Fred and you."

"They have a right to know," Percy snarls. Tears are tracing red lines down his face now. He takes his glasses off and begins wiping them furiously. "They need to."

Charlie meets his eyes. "Not yet," he says softly. "How old is this son?"

"He was born in June," I answer. "Right after... Right after you-know-what."

"What's his name?" Charlie prompts.

"Eros Frederick Wood," I say quietly.

Charlie sighs. "I hate to leave Mum so soon," he says. "I have to get back to Romania next week."

"When are you leaving?"

"Monday," he says.

"I can see why you didn't want to tell us," Percy says. His voice is quiet, somber, fit for a funeral or at someone's deathbed. I meet his eyes and give a small nod. It's too painful to do anything else.

It seems so unlike Fred to leave us all in the dark about something as important as this. It's like he didn't care how we would feel when we found out, because surely he knew we would find out eventually. So why had he waited so long? He'd died two weeks before Eros was born. Or maybe he had planned on telling us. Maybe he had planned on telling us before he died and had never got around to it.

I don't want to think anymore. I don't want to have to remember. I head back inside with Percy and Charlie, ignore Dad when he asks about something on the crossword, and head upstairs to our old room. I fling open the door and see all the contraptions we'd been inventing. My head spins painfully fast. Colors hurt my eyes, their hues seemingly brighter. I gaze at the poster of the veela on my wall, who were dancing flamboyantly. Above his bed I see a picture of Fred and Angelina at the Yule Ball, and as I stare at it, Fred leans over and kisses her on the cheek, and her face erupts in a laughing smile. Maybe if we hadn't left Hogwarts early, they would have fell in love. They'd dated for a while, before... I sit down on my bed as my knees buckle, the headache pulsing painfully behind my eyes. My neck hurts. It hurts bad. On the dresser between our beds sits a picture of Fred, Ginny, Ron, and I, all of us grinning stupidly with no knowledge of what the future held.

I don't want to remember his life. I close my eyes and find it surprisingly easy to fall asleep.

The day they had buried him had been the worst day of my life.

It had been two days after Lord Voldemort had been destroyed. Over twenty people had died. I don't know what they did with the bodies of the Death Eaters, because they weren't there.

The ones who were to be buried at Hogwarts had sat in caskets in front of the Great Hall. There were ten or so to be buried on the grounds. Every casket had been open so that we could mourn properly. Fred had been between Colin Creevey and Professor Snape.

Eulogies had been read by many students and professors alike in honor of Fred, half of the most troublemaking pair of students Hogwarts had ever seen. I was the other half. Neville spoke about how Fred and I had always made him feel worthy and welcome. Professor McGonagall, the new headmistress, claimed that while teachers were not supposed to have favorites, Fred and I had earned our spots in that exclusive category for all the trouble we caused Umbridge. And then there had been Lee, half hysterical, and Nearly Headless Nick, and Peeves, who quoted Fred with "Give her hell from us..."

I had sat stiffly next to Ginny on the end of our table. Ginny had been in pieces the entire time. Not even Harry had been able to cheer her up. The only thing that would have would be Fred returning from the grave, which would have made a very nice trick... She cried into my shoulder, which had ruined my black dragon skin blazer. I had put my arm around her and we cried together. Angelina had sat in front of us, and she turned around and gave us a watery smile when it was over.

And...Verity had been there, at a different table. Hadn't she come up to me, looking considerably composed yet remorseful, and said, "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Weasley. " Hadn't she? And two weeks later Eros had been born...

The funeral had lasted for several hours. Everyone had something to say about everyone dead, but Fred seemed to be the most popular. Tonks had clearly been a favorite of Professors Flitwick and Sprout, whom had been her House's Head, and Kingsley had much to say about her, his voice cracking with grief as he told how he and Mad-Eye had trained her. And Lupin... McGonagall had nothing but good to say about him; everyone from Dumbledore's Army and the Order saluted.

When the caskets had been taken out to the grounds we had all followed. I looked down at my brother's still-smiling face one last time before they closed his and buried him. Before they lowered it, Mum had flung herself onto it, sobbing as she laid across it. I kept one arm around Ginny, who was walking rather unsteadily. Tears ran down her face and Harry and I caught her as her legs buckled underneath her. I felt the burden of the world on me, or maybe that was just the aftermath of a piece of my heart being torn out. Everyone who had died against the Death Eaters, Voldemort, and everyone else against us had been given the Order of Merlin, First Class, bestowed upon by Kingsley Shacklebolt, newly instated Minister of Magic. They pinned the badge to Fred's suit and gave another to Mum and Dad. Neville Longbottom was awarded with an Order of Merlin, First Class, as well, and an offer for Auror training, which he respectively declined.

I was the one who threw the first shovelful of dirt onto Fred's grave. There was nothing satisfying about it. Metaphorically, I might have been burying my grief along with Fred. I know that's what Percy tried to do. He went last and refused to let anyone help him as he filled the hole. He spent hours out there afterwards. I think he was trying to make things right with us, since he'd left for so long. I know it didn't work, though. For the week we stayed at Hogsmeade-we stayed until the term ended, to pick up Ginny-Percy had stayed in the Hog's Head and drank, coming back nightly with bloodshot eyes. His effort was a failure, and here I was, making him feel even worse with all this news... What a great brother I was... Nothing like Fred had been...

I bury my face into my pillow. I scream into it, and it muffles it. I yell obscenities, I let my fury and grief out. I lift my face up to look around the room again, clench my hand into a fist, and hit it against the wall as hard as I can. It goes through the wall, revealing old insulation. My knuckles are bleeding. There are footsteps coming up the stairs, and someone knocks lightly on my door. "Are you okay, Georgie?" Mum asks in a soft voice. I picture her huddled against my door, the worry in her eyes, or maybe they were tears. It's enough to send me wallowing in my guilt again. She doesn't deserve this. Before, she would yell at me. Now she's afraid.

I somehow manage to keep my voice steadier than I feel. "Fine, Mum. Just tired." It seemed insane to think that just this morning I had confronted Draco Malfoy in the waiting room. I hear Mum retreat back downstairs, and I exhale slowly. I look back up and see the picture of Angelina and Fred. I see her smile. That was what Fred and I did. We made people smile.

Or, it would be correct to say, we used to make people smile. That thought alone makes me wince again; sob like a baby.

I must look like hell, because I'm living in one at the moment. One that Fred could have never foreseen and completely prevented. Because even if he had told me about Verity, he would have still died, and send me spiraling in whatever this was-it couldn't be life, because life was hope, and this looks bleak. Even still, I boil when I wonder why he left the most important part of his life hidden from even me.

I stare up at the whitewashed ceiling, hating the way being home was more constricting than anything. How did Percy do it? He seemed sane enough, for someone living here for the past three months. There's no way I could even do three days. I think of Sirius, who had been so unhappy at Grimmauld Place.

I can't stay here, no matter what Bill said about helping Mum. I'll leave Friday. I can't do this. I shut my eyes, thanking God that at least tomorrow I had a reason to get out-January.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The woman walked right past a sign on a door. She stopped for a moment to stare at it. It was the image of a woman with high cheekbones, tan skin, and long hair the color of charcoal. She would have been a beautiful woman if it were not for the white scar that parted her eyebrow and over her eyelids, leaving them a pale pink color and the hollow look in her face. Even still, she was pretty. The picture blinked menacingly.

The veiled woman stared at it, and then the words underneath. WANTED-FULVIA  
SANDERSON. KNOWN DEATH EATER, HIGHLY DANGEROUS. DO NOT APPROACH. SEND MESSAGE TO AUROR HEADQUARTERS VIA OWL OR FLOO POWDER IF SPOTTED.

Below that read: Courtesy of Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The woman pushed a strand of her hair behind her ears and pushed through the door. She was in a dimly lit room full of an odd assortment of items, even by wizarding standards. There were rocks on the shelves that gave off an odd fluorescent light, a barrel of slimy-looking green leaves, odd moving paintings of fiery explosions, a swordfish hanging on the wall that opened its mouth and let out a stream of bubbles that rose to the ceiling and vanished, and a mahogany counter laden with knickknacks and formidable looking devices.

The counter was in solitude. The woman stepped forward and rang the bell that sat on it. She glanced around for a moment, becoming interested in a box of snaillike creatures.

"I wouldn't mess with those, if I were you," a rough voice said.

She spun around, wand raised to face the man who now stood behind the counter. She let her arm fall limp to her side and she pocketed her wand.

"Those things can bite your fingers off, they can," the man said wisely, twisting his earring absently. He was black and towered at probably between six or seven feet. He surveyed the woman with cool eyes. "Why is it you are here?"

"An owl brought this to my apartment yesterday," the woman said hastily, presenting a paper to him. "Told me to come here."

He squinted at it and then studied her. "Very well," he decided at last. "Come this way. There's someone who requests to see you."

She hesitated for a split-second before obeying him. He led her behind the counter, through a door and down a corridor lit with torches. The woman couldn't help it; she burst out, "You look like Minister Shacklebolt."

"Do I?" he asked vaguely. He stopped and unlocked an old door with a skeleton key. "Here we are, Mrs. Blanchard." He gestured for her to go in, and after a brief pause, she did.

She was in a windowless room. There were several chintz chairs and a lit fireplace, where someone stood, looking at something on the mantle. "Sit," the man said. He raised his voice. "She's here."

The figure by the fireplace turned around. The firelight outlined sharp characteristics on her face. Mrs. Blanchard gasped, and opened her mouth, as if to scream.

"Don't," the man ordered, raising his wand. "You'll regret it."

The scream died as a whimper in her throat. "But that's Fulvia Sanderson!"

"I'm aware," the second woman said coldly. "Mrs. Blanchard, you have something good to offer us. In fact, if you could tell us exactly what apartment a miss..." Fulvia looked up from a book. "A Miss Verity Wood lives, we'll just let you go."

"I can't do that," she said, her voice shaking.

Fulvia gave a mirthless laugh. "Good morals, eh? Aries," she added. "She needs some persuasion. We should have brought some truth serum."

The man raised his wand. "Crucio!"

Blanchard fell out of her chair, twisting and twitching on the ground, a shriek echoing through the room. "Where is Verity Wood?" demanded the man.

"I. Don't. Know," she gasped.

"What about her son?"

"I won't tell you!"

"Crucio!"

Fulvia watched with beady dark eyes, apparently exempt from emotion, as the woman struggled and shook in pain. As her spasms eased off, Aries said in a hard voice, "Do you know who the father is?"

"No!" sobbed Blanchard.

"I don't believe you," Fulvia snarled. "Crucio!"

"I'll tell you, I'll tell you!" cried Mrs. Blanchard. Aries smiled gloatingly at Fulvia.

"Who is it?" demanded the former.

"A red haired man," she sobbed. "He is the only man who's been...in...her...apartment... In a year...other than her brother..."

"What is his name?" Aries demanded, a hungry look in his eyes now.

"I don't know!"

"Do you need more convincing, Mrs. Blanchard, or are you truly this loyal to your neighbors?" the woman asked scathingly.

"He is dead," sobbed the woman. "He...died... Just let me go, let me get back to my children!"

"I'm afraid that can't be allowed until you answer our questions," Fulvia answered sleekly. "Now, tell me, Mrs. Blanchard, who was the man who fathered the boy, and then you will be happily reunited with your children..." She drifted off delicately. "Or not."

Blanchard burst in tears.

"Tell me, you blasted fool!" bellowed Aries, lunging for her. Fulvia waved her wand at him, and he froze to the spot. "No!" she hissed. "Not yet." Her eyes glittered as she looked at the victim. "Who is the man?"

"Weasley," she cried between sobs. "He was a Weasley! Let me go, let me go!"

The two Death Eaters shared satisfied looks. Aries had a burning look in his eyes, one of vague triumph and hatred. "Fred," he said coldly. "Was it Fred Weasley?"

"My sister could have gotten a better man than him," says Fulvia contemptuously. "She could have found someone better to father her children. Her loss."

Mrs. Blanchard continued to sob.

"Why don't you show Mrs. Blanchard," Fulvia began delicately, "what happens to Mudbloods who survived the purging, eh?"

Aries smiled indulgently and raised his wand. There was a scream of terror that was cut short by a flash of green light, and there was a thump. When the light faded, Mrs. Blanchard was dead on the floor.


	15. Chapter 14-Uncle George

Chapter 14-Uncle George

"I'm going to Diagon Alley today," I stammer during breakfast. Mum pours me a glass of milk and sets down a plate of hotcakes in front of me. My voice is hollow, quiet, nothing like it used to be. Was this something being home did to me? I don't meet Percy or Charlie's eyes as I say it, but acutely study the maple syrup.

"You're supposed to rest, Georgie," Mum says. Georgie? That's all she'd called me since I woke up in St. Mungo's. The last time she's called me Georgie, I had been unconscious and just woken up after having my ear cursed off. Was it so obvious something was very wrong?

"I will," I reassure her. "Nothing but relaxation today, Mum. I need to check in on the store, see a few people." At this, Charlie shoots me a sharp look. I ignore him and begin to eat. The food is excellent, as always, but it doesn't sit well in me this time. It feels like I'm about to hurl.

"Arthur," Mum asks Dad, who was sitting further down the table, "d'you think George will be okay in Diagon Alley?"

"He'll be fine," Dad says, looking up from the Prophet. His eyes remain on me a second longer than comfortable. "He's got things to do. He's healed."

Percy seems edgy as he eats. He elbows over his glass of juice, sending it toppling over the table. He waves his wand over it and the juice returns to his glass, sitting upright. He doesn't look at either Charlie or me. None of us have spoken directly to each other since yesterday. "Well," Percy says after a few painstakingly silent seconds, "I'd better be heading to work."

"Percy, you haven't eaten anything for breakfast," Mum protests.

"I've got work I need to catch up on," he says hastily, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and hurrying out the door. I get the feeling I'm not the only one keeping secrets from Charlie. Secrets from Charlie. It sounds like some kind of game. A sick, twisted one when we did exactly what we knew what we shouldn't.

"I'll probably be out all day," I tell Mum. I know she needs something to cheer her up. "I have a date later, and some, er, business today."

Charlie's gaze is like steel now. I can feel it boring into me. I don't understand why he hadn't decided to become an Auror. He certainly had the personality for it. He'd left Hogwarts the same year as Tonks. Maybe he had wanted to be an Auror and she'd gotten more N.E.W.T.s than him. I try to remain casual, ignoring his glare as I raise my fork to my lips.

Mum gives a delighted shriek. "Oh, George, you should have told us! A date!"

I shrug, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "Actually, has Hermes come back? I sent him to take a letter Monday..."

"Oh, I forgot!" Mum yelps. "Yes, he's in Percy's room, came back this morning, had a letter, yes."

"Thanks, Mum," I say. I finish my pancake and hurry upstairs. I open Percy's door and sneeze. It looks like he hadn't dusted or cleaned it in ages, which was odd. He was a neat freak. Hermes's cage sat on his dresser. I undo the latch and let him perch on my arm as I untie the paper tied to his leg.

Mr. Weasley-  
An interesting way to contact someone; much more original than a messenger pigeon. I can meet you at five on Wednesday, in the cafe. I think there's a nice place we can go tonight.  
-Miss Watson

I laugh aloud. I haven't laughed for ages. Is it elation I'm feeling, or is the pressure behind my temples being lifted? I fold the paper and cram it into my pocket. I run back downstairs, skipping the last step.

"Someone's happy," Charlie says loudly from the kitchen.

"Really? You don't look like it," I retort. I head into the kitchen and kiss Mum on the cheek. "Gotta go, Mum, there's Galleons to be made."

She seems momentarily perplexed by this sudden change in mood, but she smiles at me. "Okay, George. Are you staying here tonight...?" She seems hopeful. Dad looks up over his newspaper.

"'Course I am, Mum. See you later, Charlie," I add, trying to put enough venom in the words as possible. I'm not sure why exactly I'm mad at him, but I am. I head outside, still smiling, and Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron. I tap on the third brick above the garbage bins and step back as Diagon Alley reveals itself. I bounce around on the balls of my feet before walking past the Leaky Cauldron. I wave to Tom the barman, who pauses as he wipes the counter to nod in my direction. My hands fidget at my sides, and instinctively I reach up and touch the cap that covered my ear. I feel the space where my other ear should be and somehow I'm heartened by this. I keep walking, past the shops. I pause when I get to the boutique of which Verity's apartment was over. I stop on the other side of the street, gazing up at it. Again, I touch the place where my ear should have been. I exhale slowly through my nose and keep walking, away from it and towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

The shop looked crowded. Wedged between a building that advertised a hot-sheet joint and a sign for illegal creature smuggling and another that held intimidating WANTED posters of Death Eaters, it looked like a safe haven. There were several neon signs still hanging up from last time I'd worked, the week after Fred's death. I push through the door, a sense of anticipation and foreboding sweeping over me as I did.

The bell jingles. I squeeze between a kid too young to go to Hogwarts and a flustered father. Io, a Ravenclaw who had been in my year at Hogwarts, was collecting money from a woman who kept checking her watch. I step behind the register, relieved to find it was much less crowded than in the shop. Io doesn't notice, and I smile. Io was a genius. She'd helped us manufacture and invent some of our greatest items, but sometimes she would get too caught up in things to take in the details. Fred and I had always flirted with her, since she was probably one of the prettiest girls who'd ever talk to us before we became popular at Hogwarts. We'd had Defense together. I step behind her and lean forward and say loudly in her ear, "I'm pretty sure we marked down those daydream potions, Io, they're only two Galleons and a Sickle."

"Merlin!" she exclaims, dropping her change. The woman shoots her an annoyed look. "Sorry 'bout that, ma'am..." She picks the Knuts off the counter and turns to me. "God, George, don't scare me like that again."

"Sorry," I say with a grin. "Business booming, huh?"

"Yes," she agrees. "So where have you been? I saw where you, er, got in a fight at the Quidditch match. What was that about?"

Io could be thick for a Ravenclaw sometimes. "Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies," I say breezily. "Who's working today?"

She glances at the schedule posted behind her. "Me, Wood, Lee, and Faulkner." At my blank look, she adds, "Jake Faulkner. Lee just hired him a few weeks ago."

"Is he up to snuff?"

"He's quite talented, actually. I don't see why the Ministry didn't accept him as an Unspeakable," she says thoughtfully. "Who're you here to see?"

"Who says I'm here to see anyone?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't tell me you came just to see how the shop's doing, because I won't believe you. I mean, you haven't even come to get your things from the flat yet."

"Not so slow, are you?" I ask with a smirk. "Actually, you're right, I'm here to see Wood." I drop my voice. "By the way, which Wood is it working?"

"Oliver. Verity said Eros is sick or something. You seen him yet? Talk about a cutie. He's got hair red as fire, really bright..." She trails off and I see eyes flicker to my own hair, and her mouth opens a little. "George-"

"God, Io, sometimes I wonder how you ever made Ravenclaw," I say harshly.

"You mean... You mean he's your son?" she asks loudly, in disbelief. A boy a few years older than Percy, maybe, looks over curiously. He wore purple robes, signaling he was one of my employees. Jake Faulkner, probably. I don't recognize him, so I didn't hire him.

I grab her by the shoulders. Jake Faulkner raises an eyebrow. "Quiet down," I snap. "No, he's not. He's one of my...relatives." If Io was this unbelievably thick, it would be safe to tell her that much. "I need to talk to Oliver. Where is he?"

"Break room, I'd say," she says, still looking slightly baffled. I open the door behind the register and add, "Oh, Io, I'd appreciate if you didn't tell anyone about this."

"Mum's the word," she says. I could count on her for that, at least. I go through the doorway and into the break room. Oliver Wood was pouring himself a coffee while Lee was lounging in a chair, amidst boxes of materials and how-to guides. He sits up when he sees me.

"Hey, George! I didn't think I'd see you for ages!" he exclaims, standing. "Gosh, what made you show?"

"Nothing," I say. "Just wanted to see you guys today. Actually, I might start working again soon."

"Well, we need you to," Lee says. "It'll be even busier by the time the holidays roll around."

That part was definitely true. I glance around the room and meet Oliver's eyes for an instant before I add to Lee, "Io could use some help out there."

"We sent Faulkner, see, since he's a newbie," Lee says with a snort. The irony is that Faulkner was probably older than both of them. "Guess he can't do that right, huh?" He gets the hint and heads out, muttering something under his breath along the lines of "dang Head Boy's afraid of a little hard work, is he?"

Oliver raises an eyebrow. "What's up?" He asks it casually, and I shut my eyes, remembering the pain of yesterday.

After a few long moments of silence, he adds, "George?"

I sit down unsteadily and he throws me a butterbeer. I open it gratefully and guzzle half of it in one gulp. The pain behind my eyes is back. I shut my eyes again and when I open them again, he stares at me both expectantly and alarmed.

"I want to see them." Now that I say it, I shut my eyes again. The throbbing ache in my skull is enough for me to black out now. It had taken me all night to decide what to do. I wonder what Percy had decided on. He had been so tense this morning.

He blinks in shock. He hadn't expected that. "You sure?"

I nod and clutch the butterbeer as if it were a lifeline.

"Damn," he says, and there's so much disbelief in that one word. "Damn."

"Damn's the word," I agree.

"Like hell it is," he says. "She thinks you will soon, because remember, I was supposed to tell you earlier?"

"She doesn't want to see me," I murmur. "She doesn't."

"Yes, she wants to."

"Like hell she does," I say bitterly. "I'm...not...him." The words come out in painful gasps. The truth had never been so hard to confess.

"She wants to. She wants you to see Eros."

"She hates me. She wishes I were dead. She wishes it were him here..."

"She doesn't!" Oliver cried, aghast. But why wouldn't she wish Fred were here? Why shouldn't it be him?

"I wish I were dead," I moan. "I don't want to feel like this anymore!" I hold my head as the throbbing ache returns. My vision blurs painfully. I drag my hand over the jagged countertop, and I feel my skin break open. "I don't want to see the world without Fred, because it's hell now. And I hate him, I hate him. It's hell for me, Oliver, everything but her..."

He stares at me with a pained expression. "Her?"

"January," I say. It was true. I liked the person I was around her. I was the old me...

He swallows. "You shouldn't get close to anyone, George."

"So I should be miserable?" I bellow. My hand is bleeding badly.

"They're after you, George! You and anyone you're close to, and Verity too! They will kill you and her if they get the chance!" He reaches into a cabinet and wraps gauze around my hand.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say honestly. My voice is hoarse, and it feels like there's sandpaper stuck in my throat. "And I wouldn't care if I did. I think I love her, Wood." Do I? Am I really in love with a girl I barely knew after only a handful of dates? Yes, I think fervently. I love her for the person she is and the person she makes me.

He looks almost as miserable as I feel. He takes a deep breath to calm himself and runs his hand through his hair, looking helpless. "Do you want to see them?" he asks me.

I take a drink of butterbeer. It runs cold down my throat. "Yes."

"I could tell you why he never told you," he says softly.

"Why?"

He looks me straight in the eye. "To protect you," he says simply.

"That backfired, didn't it?"

He gives a shaky laugh. "When do you want to see them?"

"Today."

"Now?"

I nod.

"I'll tell Lee and Io we're going. Do you want me to come?"

I shake my head. "Not in there, just show me where... I don't remember, and wait for me..."

He stares at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am, I don't know. The fine line between insanity and reality had been blurred to gray the day Wood told me I had a secret nephew. He shakes his head, as if deciding something. "Okay. I'll wait down the hall. You ready?"

"Not really," I say, and I give a nervous laugh.

We leave the break room and tell Lee, Io, and Faulkner we were just heading away to do business somewhere. We walk rather than Apparate, mainly because Apparating was more exhausting than Muggle transportation for two people as emotionally drained as us.

"So... You love her?" He sounds impressed.

"Yes."

"That's...committed."

"You're telling me," I retort. "How are things with Katie?"

"Good."

"That's good to hear."

"Actually, no, I'm lying, things are kind of shit. I think I might have gotten her pregnant." He laughs nervously. "Bad, right? My own mum told me I'd be a shitty father."

"Wow. That's really...awesome? Ickle Ollie daddy."

"Yeah," he says, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"You know," I say, "there's an easy way to make sure you don't get anyone pregnant, Oliver."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you use protection," I say, smirking despite everything. "That's what I do."

"Don't lie, George," he says, though he turns a bright red color. "I doubt you know a thing about sex."

"Yes, you're right, I had sex once, but apparently I was very drunk, because I don't remember," I say. "I just woke up naked in someone else's bed. Though the veela cousin at Bill and Fleur's wedding and I came rather close to second base."

"Wasn't she half veela? And hadn't you like, just met her that day?"

"We were intoxicated," I say, and that sums up our conversation. "And she liked Fred and mine's card tricks. I think Fred and the other actually did, but don't repeat that in case I'm wrong. Firewhiskey is quite good if you ever want to seduce someone. So yes, I guess I'm a whore for knowing this?" For the first time I feel like myself, but then I think of the task at hand, and my legs wobble.

We head through the boutique and up the stairs. Wood leads me through the labyrinth of halls and doors until we stop in front of hers. I feel the place where my ear had been cursed off. He gives me what is probably supposed to be a reassuring smile, but to me it looks like a grimace. He pats me on the shoulder before slipping down the adjacent hall, so I can barely see him.

I hold my breath and raise my fist to knock before lowering it. What am I doing? Merlin, I can't do this. He gives me a thumbs-up. I pull down my cap, hold my breath again, and tap twice on the door.

"Coming!" answered a high, feminine voice.

Oh my God. I was so stupid to think I could do this. Why hadn't I listened to Charlie? The best I could do was warn Percy not to come...

Then the door opens, and I see her.

She looked like she had at the funeral, except she was no longer wearing black and her stomach was no longer eight and some months pregnant. Her blonde hair was exactly the same as at the funeral, her face looked like it hadn't changed. There were circles around her eyes, though. Her jaw drops when she sees me, searching my face. But it was Fred's face, too, and I'm identical to him. Something in my brain registers that she probably thought she were seeing a ghost. I pull my cap off, revealing the earless portion of my face.

"Hi," I say hoarsely.

She continues to stare at me, evidently stunned.

"Can I come in?"

She nods and steps aside to let me in.

Verity's apartment is small but cozy. The walls are covered with pictures. There's a huge family photograph on one wall. Their parents had more kids than Mum and Dad. There were four girls-two I recognized, Verity and Wood's older sister, Amelia, who had been in Percy's year, but in Hufflepuff. The other was probably around Bill's age, and she was a knockout. Long red hair, a genuine smile, and sharp features; she looked like she could have been on the cover of some of the dress magazines Mum looked at. The other girl was just as beautiful but completely opposite, and I dimly recognized her. She had long dark hair and darker skin than the rest of the family, but wore a sneer. A Slytherin badge was pinned to her cloak. There were four boys as well, and one was definitely Oliver. The other two were older. One had long black hair and a face that was mostly hidden, but what I could see was twisted into a scowl. Like the sister, he had a Slytherin badge. The other looked like an older version of Wood, and around Bill's age as well. The fourth was younger and had a mischievous smirk on his face. He was probably in his fifth year. Their parents were older. The mother was elegant and beautiful, and greatly resembled the eldest redhead daughter. She was, however, unsmiling, and seemed more intimidating. The father was completely different. He had a cane and a face like Oliver and the other brother. Part of his head was scarred, and no hair grew there. As I looked at it, different people flickered lighter and back. The mother, older Oliver, knockout, and the one who looked a bit like Snape all dimly changed.

"They're dead," Verity says, her voice quiet but full of bitterness. "Those four. My sister was a Death Eater, got married to one of them and turned us in because the rest of us were in the Order. We came home and the Dark Mark was over the house..."

"Is that..." My eyes roam over the darker sister. "Her?" I remember seeing her on some posters back when nine Death Eaters escaped Azkaban.

Verity gives a short nod and gestures for me to sit. I do, and she takes the chair across from me. She was deathly pale. "Why are you here?" Her hand shakes.

I gaze into her eyes. "I don't know."

"You want to see him."

My mouth runs dry. Now that I was here, I wasn't sure if I did or not. Already this seemed like the biggest mistake I'd ever made. "I don't know," I choke out.

She purses her lips, as if she were barely holding back tears. I rush on, and I don't know where the words come from. Tears streak down my face. "I'm sorry!" I cry. "I'm sorry..." I can barely get the words out, I'm crying so hard.

She stands, her eyes red and puffy, before disappearing into another room. She comes back holding something to her chest and stoops down beside me. She pushes the blanket over the thing and shows me.

He is so much like Fred, I laugh. He looks exactly like the baby pictures of Fred and I, and I can't help it-I laugh.

"Meet Eros Frederick," she says softly.

I swallow. "He looks like you," I say, and we both laugh and return to looking at him.

"Why didn't Fred tell me?" I still feel a hot ball of rage within me when I ask it. Because now that I see Eros, I can tell how important he really was, and would have been to Fred if he were living. "Did he plan on leaving you to raise him by yourself?"

"I don't know," she says. "I think he knew there was a chance he was going to die, George."

"He should have told me sooner, then," I say, my voice cracking with grief.

"I know one thing for certain, George," she whispers. If we had been farther apart, I wouldn't have been able to hear her. "Fred loved you, and he would have never wanted to hurt you, George. Never. He would have walked through hell Merlin knows how many times before he did that. Believe me." She sounds like she's begging me.

I gaze into her eyes, full of tears, and answer honestly. "I don't know what to believe anymore."


	16. Chapter 15-Always

Chapter 15-Always

I step out into the hall, trying to compose myself before falling back into pieces. Sniffling, I turn down the corridor where I know Wood is waiting. He claps me on the shoulder and gives me a sad smile. We walk down the stairs and neither of us speaks until we're out in Diagon Alley.

"You okay?"

I nod. "He's a cute kid." I wipe my nose with my sleeve.

He smiles. "I thought you'd say that."

"Charlie and Percy know. I told them yesterday."

"That's okay," he says levelly.

"Charlie didn't want me to come."

"Charlie's only good at being a Seeker, George, that and dragons. Everything else he doesn't get. That's why he hasn't noticed that Themis fancies him."

That surprises me. "She does?" I say, incredulous. At the same time it seems unnatural to discuss something as simple as my Quidditch Captain fancying my brother.

"'Course she does. Didn't you notice how they were talking at the hospital?"

"No," I say truthfully. "I was playing Exploding Snap, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," he says, frowning. "Well, Charlie's awfully thick if he didn't notice, or blind, or deaf, or all three."

"All he used to talk about were dragons and Quidditch. He never talked about girls," I say thoughtfully. "He wasn't as big as a prat about being Head Boy as Percy. She could do a lot better than him, though."

"Why didn't he want you to come?" Oliver asks. He looks genuinely puzzled.

"Mum is unstable. Depressed and stuff. He didn't want me to come home in a bad mood again, because then she'd get upset."

"Oh," he says, and there's a long pause as we continue walking. We head in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. "Where are you going next?"

"I have a date with January."

He looks disapproving for a moment, but I can tell he knows arguing is futile. "Are you going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?" I ask casually, pushing into the Leaky Cauldron. Tom the barman nods and pulls two butterbeers out of a cabinet before setting them on the bar. We sit down and begin to drink.

"That you love her?" Wood asks with a snort.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I improvise, Oliver. I don't plan out exactly what I'm going to say." I add to Tom, "Could I have a sandwich?"

He nods and sets off to make it.

"Good luck with Katie, by the way..." I say.

"You know you can't tell her you're a wizard, right? Statute of Secrecy and all."

"Yeah, I know."

"I'm sorry about you mum, Oliver, and your brothers and sisters."

His gaze hardens. "I don't want to talk about it." I doubted he would. Why would anyone want to talk about how their sister betrayed their family and half of them were murdered? And I thought losing Fred was bad. I begin to feel more sympathy for him.

Oliver waits until Tom's out of earshot before saying to me, "Do what you want, George, but you've been warned. They're watching." He puts a Galleon down for the butterbeer and leaves me. I stare thoughtfully over the counter, wondering who "they" were.

I'm early to the cafe again. I sit at our regular booth, looking out at the filthy street. I tap my fingers on the table in anticipation. I hope we don't go iceskating again. I look like a fool when I skate.

She comes right when the clock hits five, looking out of breath but smiling all the same. She slides into the booth across from me, adjusts her glasses, and beams. "Salutations, Mr. Weasley."

"Miss Watson," I say, grinning.

"That was a very nice way of sending a letter," she says. "I must say, I have been sent letters via messenger pigeon, but never an owl."

"I'm an original person," I say. "Pigeons are overrated."

"That," she agrees, "is true."

"So where are we going tonight?" I ask, leaning back. "I took you to dinner, didn't I, last time? I know how to show a girl a good time."

She laughs. "Actually, I haven't met many people like you, Mr. Weasley, and I wasn't sure what we should do tonight."

"That's a compliment, isn't it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," she says. "I'm not going to tell you where we're heading, but you'll just have to follow me there."

"Is it a secret, then?" I tease, standing. I hold the door for her and we head outside, into the squalor of downtown London.

"Obviously," she says, returning my smile. She looks so pretty when she smiles. We begin walking. "Today was awful for me. I failed an exam in one of my classes."

"Today wasn't all sunshine for me, either," I agree, thinking of my visit with Verity and Eros, and Oliver's increasingly irritating warnings.

"Life is a bitch sometimes," she says, and I laugh. "What happened to you?"

"I met my nephew," I say. "I only just found out he existed a while ago... His dad was Fred, my twin. He looks like Fred, and me, I guess," I add. I have so many mixed feelings regarding the matter. I don't look at her as I say it, but stare straight ahead, trying to seem austere and conceal the ball of emotions rolling around inside me. "It's complicated."

"I'm sorry," she says, and she sounds genuinely so.

"It's fine," I say, shaking my head. "I'm sorry about your exam."

"Yeah, well, I'm dropping the class next term anyway," she says with a sigh. "Shame, because I already paid for it."

"That sucks."

"Yes, it does."

"Mind to tell me where we're going yet?" I ask. We were walking down a street now full of bright neon lights. The sun was hovering just above the horizon, golden light cascading over us.

"Might as well," she says. "Bowling."

It was a Muggle game, I knew that much. My Muggle Studies teacher had talked about it avidly, and Dad had mentioned it a few times. It involved throwing a ball. "Sounds fun," I say, though honestly I wasn't sure if bowling was fun at all. "I haven't been bowling in years." Perfect. At least I seemed slightly knowledgable on the game, but I had an excuse if I was bad.

"I went a few months ago, back in Liverpool, but I'm not very good," she says, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I'm awful at it," I lie, wondering how exactly bowling worked. "But it's fun."

"Yeah," she agrees. We turn down an avenue. "So...how's your nephew?"

I tense. Anything but that. I want to talk about anything but that. "He's a cute kid," I say trying to keep my voice level. "Really cute, actually. Looks a lot like me."

"What are you implying?" she teases, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm pretty attractive," I answer. "Just in case you haven't noticed, which I'm sure you did."

She laughs. We turn again. I like being able to make people laugh...like in the old days...

"We're here," she announces.

"Here" was a brick building with a crowded parking lot. There were sounds of laughter coming from inside. I follow her inside, where I take in the poorly lit room with lanes and lanes of wooden panels. What appeared to be speeding Bludgers spun down the lanes, knocking into white hourglass-shaped things. It was bewildering to watch as a man picked up a fiery orange ball and knocked down every hourglass with a jarring crack. The ball and the things disappeared.

"Let's get shoes and a lane," January says, nodding to the counter. A woman chewing on a cigarette turned around and asked us for our shoe sizes. She put these ugly boat shoe-type things on the counter and glared at us expectantly. "Eight for the shoes and two per game. Pay up."

"I'll pay," I say, reaching into my wallet and pulling out the Muggle money I carried with me. I hand the woman a few bills, who still glaring, says, "You two are on lane sixteen. If you want to buy alcohol, I need to see proof that you're over eighteen."

"Of course we're over eighteen," January says coolly, swiping up her shoes. She strode down the line of tables before walking down some stairs to a deserted row of seats. "I'll put in our names. Do you want to go first?"

"Um," I say, watching a man knock over every hourglass before hooting and fist-pumping the air. "You can."

"Okay," she says amiably, stepping up to a Muggle contraption. She hits a few keys and frowns at a screen above. "Okay, that works. I'll go first." She steps up to the front of the lane, picks up a ball, swings her arm back, and sends it flying down the lane. It knocks down all but two. I watch closely as she tries again, but this time misses both.

"Damn," she says. "All but two pins!"

"I thought you said you were bad at this," I say.

"That was a good frame for me," she says. "Your turn."

Suddenly I was swamped with nervousness. Stupid, I scolded myself. You've faced life-threatening situations before. You've fought Death Eaters, and this is what you're afraid of? Bowling? "Right," I say. I pick up one of the balls, which I discover has holes in it for my fingers. I watch the person in the lane over for a few seconds before pitching the ball down the lane. It smashes into the things at the other end-pins, according to January-and all of them fall.

"Strike!" January exclaims.

"Huh?"

"You got a strike!"

"Oh, yeah," I say dimly. "Yeah, I did."

She bowls again and gets something called a spare. I soon learn I'm actually decent at bowling. By the end of the game I've gotten a hundred fifty points and January has a hundred nineteen.

"Want to play another game?" I ask.

"Sure," she says.

"I'll go tell the lady," I say. I head up the stairs, past the bar and to the counter. As I'm waiting for the people in front of me, someone taps me on the shoulder.

"Hullo? Is that you, George?"

I clench my fist around my wand and draw it before turning around. Then I realize it's unnecessary. I see Dean Thomas, now towering over me. He'd grown since the funerals. "Oy, George, no need to get mad," he says. I put my wand back in my pocket.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, confused.

"Me sister is going to the university here now," he explains. "So I'm in for Gringotts training, and so she thought we should go bowling. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here with a Muggle friend."

"Oh," he says. "How's Ginny?"

I remember how Fred and I had threatened him when he'd dated Ginny. He still looks a little wistful. "She's good," I say. "Not going to Hogwarts this year. Her and Harry got married. They're going to have a baby soon."

"Blimey. That's good news," he says, and he sounds genuinely pleased.

"Yeah. So what are you doing at Gringotts?"

"Same thing your brother does," he says. "In fact, Bill's the one who got me interested in it."

The line moves. The woman scowls at me. "Another game? Alright, it's two per game..."

As I fish around in my pockets for money, Dean says, "It's nice seeing you, George. I'll try to stop in at your store soon... I go to Gringotts every day, see..."

"Okay," I say. "Yeah, come in, we want your money."

"Tell Harry and Ron I said hi," he says, and then he disappears. I turn around sharply, wondering where he was. He'd left so fast it looked like he'd Disapparated. But no, there he was, standing next to a girl who looked strikingly similar to him. He winks at me as I walk past him to join January.

"Who was that man you were talking to?" she asks curiously.

"Someone I went to school with," I say. "Well, actually, my younger brother went to school with him, and he dated my sister for a while."

She nods, seeming satisfied with the answer. We begin another game, in which I do worse in than I had in the first one. We return our shoes to the cigarette woman and we head back outside. It was darker now, and the moon was just rising, the first stars appearing. It was around seven.

"Do you want to get a taxi?" I ask. It was a bit chilly.

She hesitates and nods. "Yeah." We hail a cab and tell the driver our destination. We sit in the backseat just as it begins to rain. I look out the window as angry clouds cover the moon and the stars. I feel her hand slip into mine, and it momentarily surprises me. Then I lift her hand to my lips and kiss it. The driver glances in the mirror back at us and gives me a faint smile.

We both stay quiet until the driver says, "Alright-y, we're here. Better put on a coat, it's raining harder now." I pay him and he lets us out. I walk her up the steps again, the thunder booming over us and the lightning flashing in the distance. We hide under the roof for a few heartbeats and watch the white light vein across the sky.

"When can I see you again?" I ask.

"As soon as you'd like," she says. "I'm free tomorrow."

"Okay," I agree. "At the cafe, five?"

"Sounds good," she says.

I turn to walk back out in the rain. "See you then, January."

Her hand grabs mine, and I turn and look back. She steps closer, both of us in the rain now, but suddenly that doesn't matter. Her eyes are blue. I could count the freckles on her nose, and then I tilt my head down and press my lips to hers. She stands on her tiptoes and puts an arm around my neck and I put my hands around her waist and we kiss. Her lips taste good, like honey and strawberries. I'm not sure how long we stayed like that. It was too perfect to ruin. Maybe a few seconds, maybe eternity went by. Either way, it didn't matter. We don't stop until we need to breathe.

"Love me," she whispers. Her hair looks darker when it's wet.

"Always," I murmur, and holding her next to me, I wonder if this is what Fred and Verity had felt. I wrap my arms around her waist, one hand on her hip, and she puts both of her hands around my neck this time, and I move my head so I can kiss her. I lift her face with my hands and so I look down into her eyes, and our lips collide. Behind the frames of her glasses I see her eyes close. It wasn't like other kisses I'd had with other girls. Then we had been half-drunk and wanted more than just a kiss, and we normally got farther than here. Here... Here worked.

"I love you," I whisper as we break apart.

She stands next to her dorm's door and meets my eyes. "Always."


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16-Unpredictable Destruction of a Predictable Person

That night I skip down the street, despite the rain. I Disapparate as soon as I'm certain no Muggles are around. I knock on the Burrow's door just as Charlie answers, scowling.

"It's not raining here," I say stupidly.

"Where was it raining?" he asks irritably. "Never mind." He glances over his shoulder and lowers his voice. "Did you go see Fred's son?"

"Yeah, I did," I answer quietly. "And what kind of security question is that? If I said no you'd still let me in."

"You're not in a bad mood," he says slowly. "Why? I thought you'd come home and break Mum's heart."

"I'm in love," I say simply. "Therefore happy."

He snorts. "Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts. It might work for Bill and Ron, but you're not that lucky. Percy and I aren't, anyway. Come in, but don't upset Mum. She had a fit today. Found one of the sweaters she once made Fred. She's still a bit touchy. Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione are here, so don't say anything stupid... We'll talk about it later."

He swings the door open wider and I step in. Dad glances up from where he tinkers with something. Mum was talking to Percy in the kitchen, who looked...unhappy. I hope he hadn't went to see Verity. He wouldn't get the answers he was looking for. I hadn't. She'd give him a load of rubbish. Hermione, Ron, and Harry were all talking about something, but Ginny was nowhere to be seen. I sit down. "Where's Ginny?"

"Bathroom," Harry says.

"Morning sickness," adds Hermione.

"Who'd think pregnant women got morning sickness?" I say sarcastically. "Mind you, she's still too young to be married," I add, raising an eyebrow in Harry's direction.

He holds his hands up. "Hey, your mum said it was fine."

"I'm kidding, Harry," I say. Had it been that long since I'd joked around that he didn't recognize when I was being serious? If so, that's pathetic for me. He seems surprised, like it was the first time I ever cracked a joke in my life.

Percy comes in from the kitchen and sits on the couch beside me. "Did you see them?" I dare to breathe.

He stares straight ahead. His eyes are still red. Had he drank more? Or maybe just been crying? Then he gives an almost imperceptible nod, sniffles, and wipes his nose with his sleeve. I feel a stab of pity toward him.

"We can't talk here," he says softly, still profusely not looking at me.

"We need to tell Ron," I whisper back.

"And let him suffer as bad as this?" he shoots back. He wipes his eyes.

"The truth's not pretty," I agree. "But it's the truth."

"Did you go see her?"

Charlie looks straight at us, his eyes dangerous. He didn't want us talking. Screw that. He looks away for a moment when Ron asks him something, and I whisper back, "Yeah."

Percy actually turns to meet my eyes. His are shadowed, but I know they must be bloodshot. I wonder if I look the same. He opens his mouth to talk, but no words come out. He leans forward, over the floor. Hermione looks over and shrieks just as he retches. I jump up. "God, Perce, come on, there's a trash bin in the kitchen..." Blood trickles down his chin onto my arms as I support him.

He sits up, looking defeated. "Blimey!" Ron exclaims. "Perce, you're not well..."

I see a thin trail of blood running out of his mouth. I help him up and rush to the kitchen. "What's going on?" Mum asks, looking frightened.

Percy gets to the sink and vomits again. I see it this time. He pukes blood. It makes my stomach twist in knots. His hands prop him over the sink, and they turn white as he throws up. He coughs. It makes an awful gurgling sound.

"We need to get him to St. Mungo's," I say urgently. "God, Perce, you really aren't well..."

Dad's face appears in the doorway, looking unnaturally pale. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's sick!" I snap. Percy looks up from the sink, his chin flecked with scarlet and his face several shades whiter than before.

"Can you Apparate?" Mum asks, flustered. In reply he vomits again. Blood is on his shirt.

"Side by side Apparition," Dad advises, his voice surprisingly steady. "I'll take him to St. Mungo's now, Molly, you come later." He kisses her on the cheek, grabs ahold of Percy, and suddenly they disappear.

"What happened?" Ron asks, his voice quavering.

"Is he okay?" Hermione adds.

"Arthur's taking him to St. Mungo's," she says. For the first time I notice how tired she looks. She wipes her hands on her apron. "I'm going to clean up before I go. You all better head on to Mungo's..." She trails off, staring at the mess in the sink. "Scourgify." Bubbles erupted from her wand's tip. "Go on. Go."

"I'll wait for Ginny, Mrs. Weasley," Harry says, heading into the living room again. I hesitate and look at Charlie, whose expression was dark.

"Okay, Mum," I say uncertainly. Her voice is strong but her hands continue to shake. "I'll meet you there, Mum, okay?"

She blinks at this unexpected sympathy and nods. "Fine."

I share a look with Charlie and Apparate. I pop out in the middle of a dark street in front of St. Mungo's. I nod to the mannequin in the window and head through to the lobby. It seems unreal that I had only just been here the day before.

I go to the witch at the front desk. "I'm looking for Percy Weasley," I say.

"Second floor," she says in a bored voice. "Healer is Hamlet Harshburg."

I find my way up the stairs to the second floor. I push into the hall and look at the papers on the doors of the rooms. Then I see Dad, crouched next to a door, one hand on his forehead.

"Dad?" I say softly, sitting down next to him. "How is he?"

"He's got a Muggle sickness," he says, his eyes closed. I can tell his eyelashes are sticky with tears. "The Healers here can cure him in a day or so. He's just..." His voice breaks, as if he were finding it hard to talk. "They say if he hadn't puked everywhere he might have died." That was two sons with life threatening occurrences within a week. No wonder Mum and Dad were on edge.

"He might be home tonight," he adds, sounding hopeful.

"Good," I say, relieved. "What's he got?"

"New-mone-ya? Something like that."

"How do you get a Muggle disease?" I ask, confused.

"You just do," he says softly.

Soon Mum is here. Charlie seems agitated. Ron keeps pacing the hall. Ginny sits beside me, anxious. I stare ahead at the wall, cold sweat running down my face. I can't lose another brother. I can't lose another brother. I won't lose another brother. I won't lose Percy. He just had a Muggle disease...

A Healer comes out and tells us he'll have to stay all night and maybe tomorrow or more. He not only has pneumonia but a tumor in his stomach. They have to use a Summoning Charm to get rid of it. I'm not sure what that means, but the Healer says cancer is a lot like spattergroit. They say he'll live. It was lucky he got to the hospital now, according to the Healer. Cancer could be terminal, but they could cure his. It would take a lot of time, and weekly checkups possibly for the rest of his life, to make sure his disease didn't make an encore. If we had waited much longer, the Healer says he would have been terminal.

I can't lose another brother.

"You have blood on your hands, George," Ginny whispers.

"Do you mean something metaphoric?" I ask, frowning. "As in, I just killed someone kind of blood on my hands?"

"No," she whispers back. "You have actual blood on your hands."

I look down and sigh. They were a dark reddish brown color with whatever had come out of Percy's mouth. I stand and head to the bathroom to wash my hands, avoiding the mirror. It had only been several hours ago when I had told January I loved her. That didn't even feel real.

Percy would have been terminal, if he hadn't spewed everywhere. We'd have never known he had a Muggle disease even Healers couldn't heal.

God, we're lucky. He had a disease. He was alive. He wasn't going to die.

I exhale and try to remember that. He's going to be okay. He's not going to die. I don't have to lose another brother, because he's going to live. I wonder if this is how they all felt when I had been near-death with a broken neck.

Fuck Thanatos, I think grimly. Death isn't going to claim anyone yet.

I rub my hands under the water, watching as red runs off them into the sink. It hadn't been the first time I'd had so much blood caked to my palms, but I hope it's my last. I feel for my ear and shudder. I don't want to look in the mirror. Anything but the mirror, I think fervently. I'd vowed to myself never to look in a mirror again until April first, so I could celebrate my birthday with him. It almost made me feel like he was here. Somewhere.

You don't care where he is, I remind myself sharply. You don't care if he's in hell or heaven or somewhere in between, if he had become a Catholic and believed in purgatory when I hadn't realized. But there had been a lot he'd done that I hadn't realized, and no one had a satisfying explanation. You've got no reason to spend your birthday in front of a mirror, George, so quit caring.

The grime on my hands is taking a long time washing off. I take the bar of soap and scrub so furiously at my hands the skin begins to peel off. I stare down at them as the crimson combines with the water to form a pink that makes me want to hurl.

I rub at the calluses on my hand absently and head back out the door.

If Percy dies...

He won't die.

What if the Healers make a mistake...

They won't make a mistake...

I sit back down beside Ginny. She leans her head on my shoulder, the way she had back when we'd been kids and as carefree as the world, when she was something of an apprentice of Fred and I. I ruffle her hair. It was crazy to think my seventeen-year-old sister was married and going to name her son after our brother...

Don't think about him, George. You're only killing yourself every time you do.

We stay in the hallway for hours. I must have dozed off sometime in the night, because I wake up clutching and empty bottle of butterbeer. I check my watch. It's five-thirty. Ginny snores softly beside me, her head still resting on my shoulder. Mum and Dad are nowhere to be seen, but they're probably discussing with the Healers how much this costs them. It probably costs Galleons they can't afford.

Bill is here now, but I don't remember him showing up. He sits stiffly in a chair further down, staring straight ahead. I don't see Harry, but the bathroom down the hall has a light on. Ron and Hermione were both sleeping. Facing me is Charlie, holding a bottle of an unfamiliar drink. It looks stronger than firewhiskey, whatever it is. He opens it and smoke rises and orange and red flames lap at the edges of the bottle. To my disbelief, he raises it to his lips with a grimace.

"How's Mum?" I ask, jolting Bill from his trance. He jumps, as if I startled him.

Charlie answers. For someone drinking that evil looking potion, he sounds on edge. "Better. Still worried."

I glance down at Bill and back at Charlie. "We should tell them," I whisper. My voice barely makes it past my lips.

Charlie glares at me. He's intimidating. I could see why dragons minded him. "We've been through this, George."

Bill looks over uneasily but says nothing. He rubs circles over his temples, as if he were dealing with a migraine. Charlie continues giving me his intense death stare. Maybe he was trying to see if he can shoot lasers out of his eyes.

"They should know."

"Shut it, George," he threatens.

"We need to talk about it."

"Shut up!"

Charlie says it with the ferocity of someone about to commit homicide. Bill looks over, worry evident in the lines of his face.

"I'm not stupid, Charlie. I'm not going to say anything with Bill listening. But they need to know-"

"Shut the hell up, George, or I'll do it for you," he snarls. His face is red, like all the blood in his body had just flowed to his brain.

Bill stands up. It's not exactly a sign of aggression, because he keeps his hands clasped behind his back. I see the tip of his wand sticking out of his pocket, though, and he looks ready to reach for it. "Calm down, Charlie."

Charlie exhales, and his face turns a pinkish color. "I'm just worried about Mum and Percy."

"Percy will be fine," Bill says evenly, his voice surprisingly steady. "He won't die," he adds, but this time he sounds more like he's trying to reassure himself.

"Why do you think it's always our family?" Charlie wonders aloud.

Ginny shifts beside me, but she doesn't wake up. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well, it's not like the money's always been here to do what we need," Charlie says. "And there are-" He stops, his face waxy. "Were," he corrects. "There were seven of us."

"Don't remind me, Charlie," I say haughtily.

He goes on quickly. "I mean, seven of us, and we all had to pay for Hogwarts every year, which is a pretty hefty price tag, you know, without additional things. But Bill and I played Quidditch before Fred and you came up to Hogwarts, and that costs money, and then you and Fred and I all played Quidditch for a year, and then you, Fred, Ginny, and Ron."

"What are you getting at, Charlie?" Bill asks nastily. "That the whole reason we're in this situation is because Percy never played Quidditch?"

Charlie turns beet red. He mumbles something inaudible-probably a swear word-and then says clearly, "No. I'm not done. And Quidditch costs money. So we were already weighing down on Mum and Dad financially. And then all the injuries. Ginny got possessed by You-Know-Who, Dad got bit by a snake-"

"He almost died," I say coldly. "What's your point, Charlie?"

"After that," he says nervously, "George, you and Fred took off from Hogwarts. And then Bill was savaged by Fenrir Greyback, and then everything with You-Know-Who in the Ministry, and Ron ran off, and then Ginny left at Easter. And then you-know-what happened-"

Bill is so white his face glows in the dark hallway. "Say it," he says. His voice is hoarse. "Say it."

"No, I can't, Bill, it hurts-" Charlie stammers.

"Say it."

It was almost as if we were children goading each other into telling secrets. There's a certain hunger on Bill's face I've never seen before, at least not from someone as easygoing as him.

Charlie swallows, and his voice is weak. He sounds scared. Defeated. "And Fred died."

The hall is so quiet all I hear is the clock ticking. Bill's face goes slack. His muscles relax and he slouches slightly, as if hearing the obvious helped him. I feel tears trickle down my cheeks. Ginny's head rotates on my shoulder, but she stays asleep. The tears sting my eyes, and I try to blink them away, but I can't. They keep coming.

"And we can't do this anymore," Charlie sobs. I look at him in disbelief. My brother is crying. He looks like a mess. The bottle of his acidic drink tips and hits the floor, smoking. When the smoke wears off, there's a blackened spot on the floor. "We can't keep doing stupid things."

I swallow hard. He meant me breaking my neck. Me losing my temper with Draco Malfoy. Me going to see Verity.

"Percy is going to live," I say, sounding more certain than I felt.

"Mum and Dad can't take this, George," Charlie says softly. "They can't take much more." He sniffles. We sit the next half hour in silence. At six-ten, Mum and Dad return, both tired but relieved.

"Percy's going to get out tomorrow," she announces, "and he'll have weekly checkups. But he's going to be fine!"

Ginny wakes up with a start, mumbling under her breath about a dream. "Great news," she murmurs. "Really great..."

"What happened?" Bill asks Dad quietly as Mum wakes everyone up.

"They removed a tumor in one of his organs," Dad says. "They said Muggle doctors take years to get rid of rumors, but they used some special potions and charms."

"Wow," Bill says softly.

"We ought to go get some sleep," Mum says, "and come and see him later."

"Okay, sure," I say, my eyelids heavy. Ginny and Harry invite us to the Grimmauld Place to stay until then, and we're quick to oblige. I volunteer to sleep on the couch while the others go to the guest rooms-Sirius's parents, Regulus, and Sirius's old bedrooms. I lie down and shut my eyes, finding it surprisingly easy to fall asleep. My rest is undisturbed.

Mum wakes me up at ten. We eat a quick brunch before setting off for St. Mungo's, where we travel to with Muggle transportation. The London Underground is crowded. When we finally get to the hospital and go to see Percy, he's in his bed, propped up and reading. He looks up over his book and lets it fall to his lap. My chest clenches when I take in how deathly pale he is. His skin was waxy. He still had faint traces of blood around his mouth. Was it possible, or did he already look thinner? He forces us a smile. I can tell it's forced because his eyes aren't in it. "Hi." His voice is the same, and I feel a wave of relief crash over me. Mum bursts in tears. Percy's smile falters, and he meets my eyes.

"How you doing, Perce?" Ron asks awkwardly. I breathe a silent prayer of thanks that I had a brother willing to talk.

"I've been better," he says wryly, and I get the feeling he's talking about more than cancer.

"I would have sent you a toilet seat," I say, "but we didn't have the time."

Ginny laughs hard at my lame attempt. Percy chuckles. "Yeah, I was waiting on it for ages."

What is this trickery? Did my brother actually go along with a joke for once?

"We beat up Penelope for you," Hermione adds.

"Really?" Percy asks lightly.

"We sent her a Howler, straight to her office," Ron explains.

For a moment Percy's nostrils flare, and I can tell he's on the verge of telling them off. Then he gives a thin smile. "Good." I wonder if the way he had felt about Penelope had been as strong as the way I did for January. But then, they'd been together since they were sixth years, so he'd probably really, really loved her. For the first time I notice the ring that dangles on a chain around his neck. It glitters with diamonds. The engagement ring. Percy was carrying around Penelope's engagement ring. He must be really depressed if he was still that in love with her.

He must sense I'm looking at it, because hastily he tucks it into his shirt. His fingers shake. Had he lost a lot of blood? "I'm doing fine, Mum," he says as she stops crying. "Healer Harshburg said Muggle ways of curing cancer are much more painful."

Mum nods. Dad opens his mouth to say something, but at that instant a Healer sticks his head in the door. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? Could we talk to you for a moment?"

Dad blinks and Mum nods again, but she's rather pale. As they head out, I hear the Healer say, "Let's go get some tea." We stay silent the whole way as they leave, and for several seconds after they're gone. Then Ron yawns loudly.

"I want to tell them," Percy says bluntly to Charlie and I. Charlie blinks in surprise. "What?" he asks, and he laughs shakily. "Percy, I thought you just said you want to tell them."

"Give a dying man his wish," Percy retorts.

Everyone freezes. "Percy," Harry says quietly, "you're not dying."

"You don't know," Percy says coolly. "Why do you think the Healer wants to talk to Mum and Dad? They even told me cancer is tricky. Said it might come back. He told me I had another tumor. They even said there's only so much they can do for it if it does!"

We fall silent. Ginny begins to cry, and I put one arm around her, and she cries into my shoulder. Percy glares at Charlie.

"Percy," Charlie pleads, "it's completely ruined us."

"I think we should tell them," I break in. "It's the truth. But Perce, you didn't want to tell them earlier."

Everyone else seems puzzled. They watch and listen.

"You were right," he says painfully. "It's important, and I went and saw him, but I didn't get the answers."

"Talk to Wood," I say. "He told me what he knows so far, I think."

Percy nods. He looks pained.

"We shouldn't tell them," Charlie says. His voice shakes. "We can't. Look what it's done to us."

"What," Bill begins, "in ruddy hell are you talking about?"

"We can't tell Ginny," Charlie pleads. "It's unhealthy."

"She deserves to know!" Percy shouts. "They all do! Even Mum and Dad! Especially Mum and Dad!"

"They don't deserve to know," Charlie bellows. "None of us did! They don't need to go through what we did, and we've only known for two days! How much worse is this going to get?!"

"I've known for three months," I say coldly. "And it depends on yourself how much you want it to hurt you."

"Why don't you tell us what you're talking about?" Ron snaps.

"We can't-"

"We will," I cut in. "Charlie, you don't get it, do you? He lied to us!"

"He didn't tell us about something!" Charlie shouts. "It's completely different!"

Percy looks furious. "I think they should know that they have a hidden family!"

"What in the name of Merlin are you talking about?" Ginny demands. She sounds terrified.

Charlie takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. His face is red, and it takes several seconds for it to return to its regular color. "Fine," he says. "Fine. Tell them." He stands and pulls on his jacket. "Go on and tell them, but I don't want anything to do with this anymore. I want to remember differently."

"You're a coward, Charlie," Percy says, and I've never heard so much contempt in his voice, not even when he yelled at Dad and took off. "You're afraid it's true. You don't to want to find out if he's real."

"Maybe I am," Charlie says softly. "But I want to be happy. I'll be back to see you later, Perce. You're not going to die, either. I just... I don't want to hear any more of this." With that, he opened the door and headed out the door.

"What's he talking about?" Ron asks, his voice a higher octave than usual. Hermione and Harry look uneasy, but Bill, Ron, and Ginny all look sick. "You'll tell us, won't you, George?"

I look at Percy. He was still pale, but that was probably more from cancer than the secret. He nods to me. I take a deep breath. "Fred, well, Fred..."

"Spit it out," Bill says.

"Fred..."

"What is it?" Ron asks, his voice still high.

"Fred has a son," Percy says, cutting me off. He pushes his glasses into place and meets my eyes. He didn't sound accusatory; he was merely stating a fact.

"Excuse me?" Bill says, his voice shaking. He gives a nervous laugh. "I think you just told me I'm an uncle, but that can't be right."

"It is right," I say. "It's true. I've seen him myself."

"You're lying," Ginny says. She sounds like she wishes it were true. "You're lying, George... Fred wasn't married."

"Well," I say tartly, "he wasn't a virgin, either."

Silence.

Ginny speaks again, and her voice is shaking uncontrollably. "I don't believe you." Her face crumples again, and I hug her. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stare at Percy and I in disbelief, but none rebuke us. All I can hear is Ginny sobbing.

"He has a son," Ron echoes.

"Yes."

"I suppose his mother is raising him?" Bill asks quietly.

"Of course," I say, bristling.

"Wow," whispers Hermione.

"How old is he?" Ron asks.

"He was born a week after Fred died," Percy says.

"I hate you!" Ginny cries, pushing me away. "I hate you!" Her face is streaked with tears. "I hate you," she weeps. She stares from Percy to me before turning and running out the hall. Harry stands to go, but I push past him.

"Ginny," I call desperately. Healers and patients are watching from doors. She keeps walking away from me.

"Ginny!" I cry.

She whirls around. "Go away! I can't even see you now! You-You look like him!"

"I'm your brother, Ginny, and I'm sorry! I shouldn't have told you!" God, Charlie had been right. I'd never made a bigger mistake in my life.

"Leave me alone!" she says with a sob, and she continues walking at a faster pace away. I stumble to a halt. She turns down a corridor and disappears. I stare after her. Harry rushes past me, shoots me an annoyed look, and follows her.

God, Fred. This is what secrets do. They tear us up and break us down. More specifically, tear up our family and break down your memory. I'd have thought you would have realized I'd end up hating you for this.


	18. Chapter 17-Of Cancer and Concern

A/N: Kind of a happy chapter?  
Chapter 17-Of Cancer and Concern

I get back to Percy's room and cry. No one tries to comfort me. I cry. I bury my face in my hands, not daring to look at anyone. Ginny hates me. Ginny and Fred and me, we'd gotten along so well only three months ago.

Ron's voice is shaking so bad when he starts talking. "Why didn't he ever tell us?" His voice is inconsistent and pitchy.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Percy says. "I never got the answers I wanted. Not yet, anyway."

"Do Mum and Dad know?" Bill. His voice is strong. Exactly the opposite of how I feel.

"No." Percy answers all the questions.

"Are you really terminal?" Ron asks in a small voice.

"I don't know," Percy admits. "Not well, that's for sure."

I can't lose another brother. Or sister, for that matter. Why does she hate me?

Because you ruined everything we used to think about Fred, a small voice says.

Fred made that decision, I think.

We stay dead silent until Harry returns. "We're leaving," he announces brusquely, not looking at me. "Tell Mrs. Weasley Ginny's tired. Charlie's coming up in a few minutes. Just saw him in the lobby. Well, bye, Perce, hope you do better."

I sit up and stare at Percy. "What do you mean, 'not yet'?" I demand. "You can't seriously still thinking about seeing them."

He stares back at me, his face morphing in anger and pain. I know it's not directed at me, though. For a moment he looks...frightening. Intimidating. "You mean," he says quietly, "you don't want to know why?"

Bill laughs mirthlessly. He looks angry. "Obviously the 'why' is that he went out and got some woman pregnant!"

"That's not what I mean, Bill," Percy says.

"Don't die, Percy," Ron says meekly.

Despite everything my brother grins, but it looks dark and grim. He's changed so much since Fred died. Before he would have never done any of this. He's different. We all are. "I'll try not to, Ron," Percy promises. "It's not in my schedule."

I go to Diagon Alley at noon to get something to eat. As I sit in the Leaky Cauldron Oliver Wood comes in. He invites himself over and sits down across from me. "Where were you today at practice?" he asks accusingly.

I groan. "I forgot. Sorry. Long night."

Oliver raises an eyebrow. "Not like that," I say quickly. "Percy's in the hospital."

Both of his eyebrows shoot up. "That's news."

I fill him in on how Percy had went to see Verity and threw up everywhere with walking pneumonia. And then the cancer. A Muggle disease I now feared worse than spattergroit. Oliver nods and sighs. "Cancer," he says softly, "sucks."

"How do you know?"

"I had it," he explains, "before I went to Hogwarts. Mum and Dad took me to St. Mungo's and they said they didn't know what to do-before they developed special potions, you know, for the Muggle Maladies Unit," he adds. He sips his drink, perhaps to add a dramatic flair to his story. "I had to take Muggle treatments for two years, till I was nine."

I choke on my butterbeer and cough. "Two years?"

"Worst two years of my life," he says gravely. "I lost my hair, and I had to live near Muggles."

"Lost your hair? Seems like something more wizards would know about. Cancer, I mean."

"I don't like to talk about it," he says. "Painful. Percy'll probably be fine, that was probably a decade or so ago, and now they've got all these potions and spells good for it. Back when I had it, I was lucky to live." On that less than reassuring comment I begin my soup.

"How's Katie?" I ask.

"Er, okay, I suppose."

"What's that mean?" I ask suspiciously.

"She's um, good."

"You got her pregnant, didn't you?"

His turn to choke. "You don't just ask someone that, George," he hisses, casting frantic looks around.

"Is that a yes?" I ask bluntly.

"Shut up!" he whispers fiercely, blushing scarlet.

"I don't believe it," I say, leaning back. "Did you really?"

"You know," Oliver mumbles around his food, "you ask too many questions."

"Hmm."

"Aren't you going to ask about Verity and Eros?" he asks. His gaze seems penetrating; worried.

"I'm not sure how I feel about that now," I say coolly. I finish off my bowl of soup and look him straight in the eye. "Do you have any real reason to why Fred never told me?"

"I told you. They're watching." He drops his voice. "He cared about you, George. A lot. Don't forget it." Then he sounds normal. "How're things with January?"

I talk with food in my mouth. "I thfingk eem goowing to ashk er to arrfy meh."

"Im sorry," Oliver says blankly. "What was that?"

I swallow my sandwich. "I think I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"Wow. That's dedicated."

I scowl at his tone. "So you'd rather get some girl pregnant when you don't exactly know her?"

"I never said that was true," he says.

"You didn't deny, it either," I retort. "Never heard of a condom before, have you, Wood?"

"Shut up," he says.

I laugh. He scowls again and says, "But really, George, aren't you kind of...rushing into this?"

"Am I?" I ask blankly.

"Yes," he says edgily. "Do you really love her?"

I pause, wiping my face on a napkin. "I think so."

"Is that enough?" he demands testily.

I look him in the eye. "When you and Katie had sex, did you love her? Because January and I have not had sex," I say cheekily. That shuts him up. I smile to myself and finish off my lunch, mulling over his question.

Is thinking I'm in love enough? Because really, do I love her? Or do I just love the escape from reality when I'm with her? I do love her, I think defensively, and inwardly I cringe. Can I not even give myself an honest answer?

"I think it's enough," I say at last.

"George," he begins, "just be careful. You need to take the Death Eaters seriously. My sister is not someone you want to take lightly."

It takes me a moment to comprehend he didn't mean Verity, but the sister in the portrait who'd gone bad and had them killed. I hesitate before saying, "Oliver, is your sister... Fulvia Sanderson?" Next to the two Lestranges, she'd been the most feared Death Eater.

"Yeah. She killed me family herself," he says, staring at the table. His accent, which he'd been embarrassed of at Hogwarts and tried to cover up, is coming out again. "Me mum always said Slytherin was the best House. She adored Fulvia an' Jackson. I guess the rest of us let her down."

"But," I say, momentarily puzzled, "she killed your mum."

"Yeah," Oliver agrees softly. "Funny, isn't it?" I don't laugh. Neither does he. It must feel awful to know your own sister was the enemy, killed your mother and your siblings. I already know how it feels when your parents have favorites. Mum had always loved Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, and Ginny more than Fred and I...hadn't she? She'd always seemed to favor them. Especially Ginny. Ginny is the whole reason Mum and Dad had seven kids, and invariably the whole reason we'd had financial issues.

That's not fair, George.

It's true, though, but I don't blame Ginny. Mum had always wanted a daughter, and I could see why. It's not like any of us had been perfect sons. Fred and I had always gotten into trouble. Percy had run off after getting into a bad argument. Ron had left with Harry and Hermione to track down the Horcruxes-dangerous, but Mum had never saw the necessity in it. Charlie had always gotten in fights. Bill had been an arrogant Quidditch captain and Head Boy before he left. Mum loves us all too much. She loves us more than we deserve.

"We told them," I say. "Percy and I told them Fred has a son."

Oliver nods, but his eyes are a bit glassy. I don't think he cares one bit if the whole world knows my brother had had an affair with his sister. He doesn't care now, at least. Maybe he would another time. Maybe he knows exactly how I feel, because no one probably understands grief as well as the Wood family.

"Ginny hates me."

"She hates the truth," Oliver corrects, but his voice is faraway. Dead, almost. It sends a shiver down my spine that I try to hide. "She hates the truth." He gives a thin, forced laugh. "Don't we all?"

Wood is in a peculiar mood today, no doubt. When Tom the barman walks by, he orders a drink much stronger than a butterbeer. I wonder what he means. Everyone hates the truth.

"I need help opening the store in Hogsmeade," I say, desperately trying to change his state of mind. "Lee can manage the one here, and you can manage the one in Hogsmeade, and I can go from one to the other and check how things are going."

Oliver nods, but I'm not even sure he hears me. The only other time he'd been this upset was when he'd broken his neck in his fourth year in a match and been unable to play the final match of the season, or when we'd lost to Hufflepuff in my fifth year. He sniffles, wipes his nose, and says, "Another store would be nice. Hogwarts kids would come down a lot on the weekends."

I'm so surprised by this I almost gape at him. Then I nod. "Yeah, of course. I'm thinking if we doubled the staff, productivity levels will go up, and we can split the franchise." Jesus. Had I just made a genius business decision in the spur of a moment, just to lighten Oliver Wood's mood? For the first time in months I'm actually thinking of the store. Of business. Fred and I had been almost wealthy enough to retire before he'd died. Back when we'd first started, the Galleons had meant everything to us. Now I'd trade the entire fortune to have him back.

You shouldn't think like that, George, because if he'd wanted to deserve that, there would be less secrets. I shake my head and gaze at Oliver. "What time is practice tomorrow?"

"Nine to eleven, morning."

"We can work on it after noon. I want to see Percy."

"Yeah," he agrees in the same awful faraway tone. "Good luck with January, I'm gonna stay; get me a drink."

"Good luck with Katie," I say.

"I'll need it," he says, but without humor.

I mull over this for a few minutes before leaving. I riffle through my wallet quickly, relieved to find it full of Muggle money I would need. I leave Diagon Alley without Disapparating and down a Muggle street. It was much cleaner than the one the cafe was on, I noted with satisfaction. I slip inside a jewelry store and nod to the woman behind the counter. "Where might I find engagement rings?"

"We have a large collection just over here, sir," she says, and she begins pointing them out to me. After nearly an hour I walk out with a small black velvet box in my pocket and clammy hands. I get to the cafe nearly an hour before I have to meet her, still mulling over the wisdom-or maybe stupidity-of my decision. Do I love her? Do I really?

Yes. And an engagement could last years; you've got plenty of time to make up your mind, George.

And then the door opens and the bell chimes. January's here early. Her blonde hair was down and she wore jeans and a sweater. She smiles and sits down across from me. "Hello there, Mr. Weasley."

"January Watson," I acknowledge, returning her smile. But my mouth suddenly feels very dry. I feel the box in my pocket very acutely. "Would you give me the privilege to take you to dinner?"

"As a matter of fact, I would," she answers. We leave the cafe holding hands, but mine feels clammy and sweaty and nervous. We walk several blocks over, and London seems to transform. Just a few blocks over was a poverty-ridden, soot-stained street, and here we were standing in the wealthiest district of the city. I push open the door of our destination-one of the most highly recommended restaurants in London.

The hostess seats us and brings us two flutes of red wine. I'm not really sure what to do now. We order. At a table near us, a group of Muggles in business suits begin discussing markets and stocks.

"Before my mum left," January says, "she always made Bruce and I a good dinner if we cleaned up around the house."

"Really?" I say. "My mum made us clean, regardless of any bribery, and if we didn't, all hell would break lose."

She laughs, and it feels so good to know I can still make people laugh. A waiter brings us our food, and I find it hard to eat my steak without throwing up. We talk some more over dinner and we drink more wine. It was top-quality Muggle wine, that was for sure. It tasted good, but I didn't want to get drunk in the slightest, so I don't drink too much of it.

I begin to shuffle my cards and do a few tricks. She watches, mesmerized, as I flip over four cards, all aces.

"Is there anything you can't do?" she asks.

"Well, sure," I say, spinning a card on my fingertip. "Can't play football. Not American football or regular football."

She smiles. "What happened to your ear?" she asks quietly after a moment.

I flinch and touch the hole below my hairline. "Lost it in the war," I say quietly, which wasn't exactly a lie. "Fred and I fought together."

"Oh," she says, and her cheeks turn a faint pink. She probably wishes she hadn't asked now. I feel a twinge of guilt, but there's nothing I can think of to say. We finish eating and I head to pay the bill. We begin walking around outside on the street to the park. The sunset was streaking the sky with brilliant pinks and pale blues. It was a bit chilly, and I pull on my jacket. For the first time all day, I'm not worrying about Ginny or Percy.

We walk around in the park, her hand entwined in mine. We keep walking along the sidewalk, looking up at the statues and trees occasionally. I exhale through my nose, still nervous.

This is the place to do it, I think.

I get down on one knee and hold out the box, and her face lights up in surprise or anxiety or love, I'm not sure. "I don't know you well," I begin, struggling to keep my voice steady. "But I know I love you, January Watson. Will you marry me?" It sounds generic and corny and if Fred had still been here and I'd had more humor, I probably could have made it a better proposition.

"Yes," she whispers. "Of course I'll marry you, George." And I stand and she throws her arms around my neck, and we kiss, and for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, hopeful.


	19. Chapter 18-The Informant

Chapter 18-The Informant

"Good news, my lady," a gravely voice rasped.

"What is it?" a sharper, female voice demanded.

A light flickered in the room, and the fireplace roared to life. White and blue flames leapt outwards toward a hunchbacked old man. He jumps back into a coffee table.

"I thought better of you, Professor Hereford," a deep voice said, tinged with amusement. "I didn't know you were related to that filthy blood traitor Nymphadora."

"I'm not!" the old man exclaimed indignantly in his hoarse voice. "Whereas you, Aries, are related to that blood traitor Kingsley."

A man stepped smoothly from behind a chair into the firelight. His teeth were clenched, but after several seconds he seemed to gather his composure. "You flatter me, Professor Hereford."

"You always were an odd one," grunted Hereford. "You and your brothers all had the most peculiar sense of humor."

"Excellent," Aries said, but now he looked angry. His hand was clenched around his wand. "Another compliment."

"We have news to discuss," the woman's voice said briskly. Someone in another chair stood, revealing a woman with sharp features. "Professor Hereford here is our spy."

"Explain," Aries said frostily.

Hereford gave a hearty chuckle. "Never liked me as a professor, did you?"

"Astronomy was never my strong suit, Professor."

"That's not what Professor Sinistra told me after my resignation, and if I do recall, you had a very keen eye for observation." Hereford smiled nonetheless, but it looked more like a grimace. "But as Fulvia reminded you, I am your spy, so to speak."

"One of many, might I add," Aries said nastily. "One of whom we already killed."

"Professor Hereford is doing us a service," Fulvia snapped.

"Anything for one of my favorite pupils, Miss Wood."

"I'm a Sanderson now, Professor Hereford." There was a definite edge to her voice now.

"You and your brothers and sisters will always be Woods to me," he answered. "Pity what happened. I only wish I could have taught Oliver, Verity, Benjamin, and Amelia before I left."

"They all turned out rotten," Fulvia says sourly. "Just like Jackson, Caleb, and Ellie."

"Jackson was brilliant, my lady. Quite the young prodigy. Wasn't he featured in Transfiguration Monthly? He would have done the Dark Lord marvelous deeds, I do wonder why he did not, ah, enlist in his support."

"The reason my brothers and sisters did not join our cause," Fulvia says frostily, "is no fault of the Dark Lord's."

"Of course not!" Hereford cried, aghast.

"Why don't we move on to our information?" Aries said.

"Yes, yes, that sounds excellent," Hereford agreed hastily. "I discovered one of the Weasley brothers is in St. Mungo's, might be terminal, pity, I did enjoy teaching Bill and Charlie, I wish I'd stayed to have the whole lot of them. Also, thought you might find something in this. The twin, the boy with that preposterous franchise-I can only think what Filch says of it-, is engaged."

"Really?" Aries said quickly.

"Might I ask, why are you having me follow the Weasleys?" Hereford looked positively baffled. "I was never a Death Eater, you know, but any service to the cause is greatly rewarded. But do you realize the legal trouble we could get into? Clause six in the International Wizarding Privacy Act..." He trailed off.

"I'm afraid we can't tell you," Fulvia said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Does his fiancée happen to be a Muggle?"

"Why yes, yes she is!"

"Thank you, Professor," Fulvia said. "You have done us a wonderful service. Keep following the Weasleys, please, and tell us if anything...new happens."

"That can be arranged," Hereford says, with a chilling smile. "I will be quick to notify you."


	20. Chapter 19-Negotiation

A/N: Hats off to whoever gets the reference in this chapter. Also, let me clarify: There is no romance between George and Angelina. I know they end up together in HP. There is NO romance between them. Keep that in mind.

Chapter 19-Negotiation

I wake in my old bed in the Burrow, staring up at a poster veela on the ceiling. Fred and I had put them up after the World Cup. I grin stupidly to myself for a moment after I remember what happened yesterday. I'm engaged. I'm going to get married.

But my smile dissolves when I remember that Ginny hates me and that my family was on the verge of being torn apart and that Percy might be terminal. Jesus. Yesterday had been a long day.

I head downstairs to the kitchen. Mum was flustered and murmuring under her breath as she cooked. I sit down in my usual seat next to Ron, who was bleary-eyed. Charlie and Harry were talking in low voices across from us. Hermione smiles at me but it seems halfhearted.

"Is Ginny here?" I ask Ron quietly.

"Yeah, her and Harry got here right after you went to bed," he says with a yawn. His voice was shaky. "Everyone's staying till Perce gets back. He should be coming home by Sunday."

"Where's Bill and Fleur?"

"There's not much room, and Louis has a cold, so they're still at Shell Cottage."

"Ginny probably hates me, doesn't she?" I ask quietly. "Where is she?"

"Bathroom. She wanted to talk to you yesterday, but you were asleep," Ron murmurs back. He has gray circles around his eyes. "Why were you in a good mood when you got back?"

"I'll tell you later."

Mum lays out plates of pancakes just as Dad sits downs at his seat. She puts a plate in front of the chair beside me, where Ginny would normally sit when we'd all still been living together as a functional family. Ron blesses the food in a meek voice he never used and prays to a God we barely know, because we'd only been to church a handful of occasions. "Dear God," he says quietly, "thanks for the food. Help Perce through this. Amen." It's not much of a prayer. Ron shouldn't quit his day job to become a priest, if he even has a job already.

Charlie announces he was going straight to St. Mungo's after he finishes his meal and was going to see if he could delay his departure to Romania till Wednesday. My neck begins to ache but I ignore it. I eat quickly. Ginny comes in and sits beside me, and I do my best not to flinch. She drops her fork and I bend down to pick it up off the floor. For a moment our hands touch, because she'd leaned over to pick it up, too. I flinch and drop it again, and our eyes meet. "I'm sorry," I whisper, meaning a lot more than the fork.

She shakes her head and a single tear runs down her cheek. She brushes it off. "No," she whispers back, "I am."

Ginny doesn't hate me.

I'm so relieved I could laugh. Instead I start to cry. Funny how things happen like that.

Ginny presses her palm to my face and like that, everything's okay. She doesn't hate me. She forgave me.

I sit back up in my chair, tears still streaming down my face. Ron stares at me, fear in his eyes. My God. It hasn't been the same since he died. It won't ever be the same. I won't be the same. Everyone is quiet, and the only sound I can hear is my sobbing and forks connecting with ceramic plates.

"Georgie?" Mum asks, "are you okay, Georgie?"

Georgie. She'd called Fred Freddie. Goddammit. I can't forget anything. I can't forget Fred and how good of a brother he'd been for the nineteen years he'd been here, until he kept the most important part of his life a secret from me...

The day he'd died...

Why can't I forget...

"I'm fine, Mum," I manage, but I'm still crying. I stand, leaving my breakfast half eaten, and walk to the bathroom. I shut the door and lock it just as blood rushes in my ears, and I'm back, I'm back in hell, I'm back at Hogwarts, back at the day he died and I want to die why can't I die it feels like I'm dying but I'm breathing and here and he's dead and he's there and we're separate...

I knock my head off the sink and sit down on the edge of the bathtub. My head is throbbing painfully and I think it's bleeding. I shut my eyes and cover my ear like a little kid. My other hand gropes over the place where my one ear should still be. I don't want to remember...

In times of crisis, Fred and I had always managed to put a lighthearted spin on things. That's impossible now. Percy and Ron are sobbing and Neville is carrying Fred with a look on his face I don't want to see ever again. Longbottom's face is red and tears stream down it. I see Fred's face, his eyes still open, gazing at nothing, glassed over with death, and I know the end's coming. The world is falling apart at the seams around me, because of all the awful things I imagined happening with Voldemort back, losing Fred had never been an option. It had always been that of one of us were captured by Death Eaters, we wouldn't go down alone. I had always known he would die for me and I would die for him and we would go out a pursue death like a friend together, if it came down to it.

And here we are. The Great Hall is full of wounded people and the dead and the mourning. Neville sets Fred down on the ground near Lupin and Tonks and that's when the tears start, and when they do, I can't stop them. I wanted to trade him spots and be dead. I wanted to die. I don't want to be here anymore. I want to be with Fred. Together was where brothers belong. I'd rather be dead and with him than alive and without him. We all cry. Everyone. I kneel beside his head and stare down at his face, at the smile still etched across his lips; at his eyes, blank now and never to shine with amusement again. The tears roll off my cheeks. Mum cradles his head, sobbing. I don't ever want to have kids. I don't want to see them die. I don't want them to suffer when bad things happen.

I don't want to be in the Great Hall anymore...

Professor McGonagall is a mess. She stands nearby with Harry and Hermione, who are both numb with shock and tears are running down all of their faces. McGonagall takes off her glasses and begins furiously scrubbing at them. I stare up at the black, starlit ceiling and scream a wordless song of grief. He's dead. He's really dead. He can't be, though, he has so much to live for, we had so much...

I open my eyes. I'm not in Hogwarts. I'm in the bathroom of the Burrow, now no longer sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Instead, I'm lying in it, blood running through my hair tears down my face. I stifle a sob and sit up. One of my temples was bleeding from where I'd hit my head on the sink, and so was the back of my head from when I'd fallen.

There's a brisk knock on the door. "Hullo? George? You okay?"

It's Dad. I can almost hear the fear and sadness in his voice. There for a week after, he had started to cry whenever he looked at me.

"I'm fine."

"Okay, George, we're always here for you..."

I put a band-aid over my cut temple and mop the tears off my face before heading back out for breakfast. Charlie looks up as he cuts his pancake and stares at me. Ron is glaring determinedly at the table, ignoring the untouched meal in front of him. Ginny grabs my hand for a moment and squeezes it. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath.

"I'm going to go now, Mum, I'll be at St. Mungo's," Charlie says.

My eyes snap open. "Dammit," I mutter, and Mum looks ready to jinx my mouth shut. "Sorry, I've gotta go too, I'm late for practice as it is..." I kiss Mum on the cheek and clap Dad on the back before walking through the front door with Charlie.

"You all right?" he whispers.

"No," I breathe back.

He sighs. I Disapparate to the edge of the woods. The sky is dark gray, and rain is drizzling around me. This time no one's waiting for me. Everyone is probably already practicing. I start off at a brisk run along the trail and emerge in the practice pitch. Six people were already flying around. One swoops to a stop near me. "You took your time," Themis observes coolly.

"Percy-my brother's-in the hospital," I say. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"I can tell," she says disapprovingly. "All right, I won't penalize you this time, but if you want to stay on this team, you need to be on time."

"What do you mean?"

"You're a reserve Beater, George," she says reluctantly. "And Phileos Agape is on the brink of waking from his comatose, and he has a very good attorney and a contract."

"So...?"

"So if you want to stay on, try to win us some more matches."

"No problem," I answer. "And Themis?"

"Yeah?" she asks, turning around.

"Charlie's leaving for Romania soon."

Her eyes are chips of ice. "That's out of line, Weasley."

"Sorry," I say, but realistically Themis wouldn't be a terrible sister-in-law. We begin the practice. Boreas's foot is now completely healed, and he shoots a Bludger with shocking speed in the direction of Wood, who drops the Quaffle in surprise. Boreas and I laugh at the expression on his face, but I stop quickly when I think of Percy.

"You okay?" Angelina asks me in an undertone after practice.

"Practice Monday, eight to eleven," Themis announces over us. She, Boreas, and Lachesis all leave together for lunch.

"Fine," I say curtly to Angelina.

"You seem really out of it today," she mutters.

"I'm fine," I repeat. Oliver glances over his shoulder as he holds the door open for an agitated Katie.

She meets my eyes. Is that disappointment or sadness in hers, or both? Her lips are pressed in a thin line. "I miss you," she says, and I can barely hear her over the thunder outside. "What happened?"

I clench my jaw and screw my eyes shut. Percy can't have cancer. He can't be terminal. Fred can't have a son. Fred can't even be dead. He can't be. Is it really that obvious that something was wrong? "Nothing," I say, still not opening my eyes. I feel sweat running down my face. "Nothing happened."

"I miss you," she repeats. "I miss who you were before and I miss him-I miss him so much." Her voice breaks and dies.

It had never really occurred to me how much everyone else might be grieving. I knew my family took it hard, and Verity and Hermione and Harry. But I hadn't ever really thought about how other people were hurt when Fred died, and Angelina had to have been. She had been one of our closest friends for a long time. I open my eyes and look down at her. She's wiping at her eyes with the heel of hand, color rising to her face.

"I'm sorry," she says, sniffling, not meeting my eyes. "You probably want to forget all about the D.A. and the Order of the Phoenix and everything."

I wish it were that easy, Angelina. Because every time I close my eyes I see the Order of Merlin, First Class medal around his neck, gleaming on his green dragon skin suit. I see his laughing smile, his eyelids now shut as he lays on the bed of satin. I see Percy with bloodshot eyes, clutching a firewhiskey and flinching at every sound. Ginny's crying, standing beside me, and I'm hugging Ron, and then I'm sitting next to Fred as the last bit of warmth leaves his body. I can't forget any of it. Oh my God, Angelina, you don't get it. You can pretend we'll be the same person eventually but we never will, and I think you know that.

"I was never gone," I say softly. "I'm still here."

"No, you aren't," she says, and her voice shakes. "You're never here." Tears streak red lines down her dark face.

There's a lump in my throat and I try to swallow. "I don't know where I am, Angelina, but I'm not here anymore."

She nods, crying silently. I lean down and kiss her on the cheek. "I'm not him, Angelina. I'm not the same person. I'm different now that he's gone."

"You always were different, George," she says softly, and as we cry, I'm not sure what she means.


	21. Chapter 20-The Confessions of a Sweater

Chapter 20-Confessions of a Sweater

"So," Oliver says, gazing at the boxes of fireworks sitting in the storefront, "what happened earlier?"

"Huh?" I ask absently, stacking several cauldrons of Do-It-Yourself love potions together on a shelf.

"Why was Angelina upset?" he asks, frowning.

"No clue," I lie. He frowns again, and I can tell he knows I'm lying, but he doesn't push the matter. "How's Katie?"

"It's official," he says grimly, waving his wand at a box of napkins that actually turned your face vivid colors when used. "Locomotor Napkins," he says hastily, pointing his wand at them, and the packages flew around to an organized stop on the table.

"My mum can do that, all organized and stuff," I say, admiring his handiwork. "I've not got an eye for detail, she says, so I can't do it that well. What's official?"

"I'm going to be a dad," he says, and he ducks just in time as a bewitched Snitch flew past. He grimaces as it catches him on the ear. "Stupid git," he mutters. "Whose idea was it to bewitch them to fly straight at the Quidditch players?"

"Lee's. Not sure about it yet, it would be bad if one somehow got into a Slytherin's hands, they'd use it against everyone. We thought it'd be some fun for, ah, sibling rivalry. Maybe we should background check all Hogwarts customers," I say. "You should make me the godfather," I add, glancing up at him as I straighten the feather on a Headless Hat.

"Yeah, right," he says with a snort. "I'll probably never see the kid, anyway, we broke up last night, and her brother's a very powerful wizarding attorney. He'll make sure she gets the kid, no matter what. Scourgify," he snaps, pointing at a dusty cauldron.

"Bummer. You know, I think we could open up tomorrow."

"We need a sign," Oliver sighs. "Like a big, flashy neon one."

"Eh. Bill has some friends who specialize in advertising. You should try to make things up with her. At least so she doesn't hate you enough to keep away her kid from his dad."

"His? Personally, I'd rather have a daughter, only because I know being a son kind of sucks. At least, it did for my family." He sounds uncharacteristically bitter. "You know how Katie is. Real determined to do everything her way. I'm surprised she even wants to keep it. I think she doesn't want anything to do with my name anymore."

"Keep it? What do you mean?"

"Her mum's Muggleborn, and that woman has this sister who can get rid of your kid for you." He frowns at a black top hat. "What the hell is that?"

"Muggle magic tricks," I answer. "Get rid of your kid? How does that work?"

"I don't know, some kind of operation, but essentially you go in pregnant and come out not pregnant. I think they kill it. Something Muggle, I don't know much about it." He looks sick to his stomach. "Thing is, I kind of want a kid. Not now, mind you, shitty timing, but you know, I want a family."

"Yeah, I understand." I reach up and catch one of the jinxed Snitches.

"Life is shit," he says angrily. "It's a load of bullshit that your brother's dead-he was only what, twenty?-and Percy's got cancer, and he's about my age, only what, twenty-three? Dammit," he adds vehemently as he accidentally elbows something over.

"Yeah, I know," I say, releasing the fluttering ball.

He's not done with his rant. "And then that bitch treated Jackson and Fulvia so much better than all of us because they were Slyths!" I think he's forgotten I'm here, because I've never heard him mention much about his family. "Ellie was the best of us, too, but she was just a goddamn Ravenclaw, Mum didn't have to notice!"

"Oliver?"

"And then when I was in the Order, we had to deal with listening to Jackson the whole time with his snide remarks about how Benjy was too young to be in the Order and how Amelia was too sick to do anything! Good riddance to the whole lot of them!"

"You don't mean that," I say sharply.

He rounds on me, eyes full of rage. Then he takes a deep breath. "No, you're right," he says at last. "I didn't." He turns away to lift a large crate of color changing potions, and I'm surprised he does it without magic.

"We need more staff," he says after a long, painful silence.

"Ron's unemployed. He can come and help us. We've got enough in Diagon Alley, I think. I'll leave Lee in charge there."

"A promotion," Oliver says, and despite the seriousness of our previous conversation, he flashes me a grin. "Lee will enjoy that."

"Yeah," I agree, feeling a bit guilty I hadn't talked at all to Lee for a long time. "How's he doing?"

"Good, I guess. He talks about his daughters all the time. They're sweet," he says, his voice dying, and I know he's thinking about his own unborn child. He shifts nervously, bouncing on the balls of his feet, before saying, "Think us and Ron can handle the whole store tomorrow?"

"Maybe," I say doubtfully. "We can open at noon. Ron and I will want to visit with Percy before we come. Who all do we have working in Diagon Alley?"

"Lee, Io, Verity, Faulkner, Atlas, Phobos, Deimos, Jodie, and me."

"Phobos, Deimos, Atlas, and Io can transfer here," I decide. "I'll send an owl before we leave."

"Admit it, George," Oliver says, a slightly troubled look on his face. "You don't want to work with Verity."

"So?" I demand defiantly.

"Nothing," he says at last. "It was weird talking to Fred after I found out. I guess I know how you feel."

"You knew back then?" I sputter. "You knew before he died?"

"I knew before he did," Wood retorts. "She came straight to me."

"I didn't know that."

"I'm sorry," he says wryly, "that I never gave you ever last detail from the past year."

I sigh. "I'm sorry. I don't want to-not after what happened to Percy. She didn't tell him any of it, and he..."

"How is Percy?" Oliver asks, sounding concerned. I remember they had been in the same year at Hogwarts.

"He's..." I trail off. I'd went to see him after Angelina and I had talked. His skin had been slightly yellow with jaundice, gray rings around his eyes, which was odd. There's not much to do in the hospital but sleep, so if he was staying awake with pain... He'd been awake for a while but he'd dozed off by the end of the hour. I'd went to talk to a Healer.

"He's got liver cancer, terrible thing," Healer Whitaker had said in a low voice, her eyes dark with worry. "Not very good odds, not good at all." She shook her head. "If he doesn't show improvement by Monday, we're moving him to a Muggle facility. They've got something we don't-treatment for their own diseases."

"Is he going to live?" I'd asked.

"I don't know," she admitted after a very long pause.

Now the memory was haunting me. I shake my head. "He's not well," I say gruffly.

Oliver nods. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't do anything to him. He might have to go to a Muggle place for treatment."

"What kind of cancer does he have?"

"Liver cancer, stage one, I think."

"I had leukemia," Oliver says. "Stage one isn't fatal. Hell, I met this guy who had stage four."

"Oh," I say lamely. For some reason I'm reluctant to tell him about the engagement, so instead we keep setting things up for tomorrow. It doesn't look near as impressive as our Diagon Alley store, mostly because Fred had handcrafted a lot of the stuff. Fred had a thing for charms. He could do the most difficult spells. Potions, on the other hand, were my thing. Snape had never given me a failing grade, and one of my three O.W.L.s had been in his class. Together, with our skills, we had successfully created one of the most popular stores in the Alley. It's not the same without him.

He's staring at me intently, and I have the uncomfortable hunch that he's reading my mind. No, not reading it, Mad-Eye had told us. Legilimens. Occlumens. You can't read the mind, only see its thoughts.

Either way, I don't want him knowing what I'm thinking of. He might see January and I, and he'd give me hell for that. Or worse, he might see that hot ball of rage and grief and guilt inside me, burning and burning, and he won't have anything to say about it.

I shut my eyes. "Tomorrow."

"Okay," he says, matching my quiet tone. "I'll be here at eleven-thirty. Do you want me to send owls to Phobos, Deimos, Atlas, and Io?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," he says, and he opens the door and leaves. I watch him from the storefront as he heads down the main avenue of Hogsmeade. Then I head upstairs to my tenement. I know I should get things for staying at the Burrow another few days. I should stay till Monday, at the least. Percy wasn't there any longer to keep them company, and while Ron's staying now, he won't be forever.

Instead I lie down on the couch, feeling selfish and tired. I want to sleep. I need to sleep.

But I can't. I have to go home before Mum freaks out. I pack a suitcase of clothes and come across old sweaters Mum had made for both of us. Mine is red with a yellow G. Upon further investigation, I find Fred's, hung up in the closet. His is yellow with a red F.

I feel the tears run down my face before I realize I've started crying. They boil and burn on my cheeks. I put both sweaters in my suitcase and slam it shut before I start falling apart. I sit down on the couch, trying to pick up the pieces again. I knock over the thing nearest to me-a lamp. It shatters in my palm, slicing the skin open. I yell as blood drips down onto the carpet, pain searing up my arm like my blood's boiling. My hand's bleeding badly and I doubt I'll be able to hold a quill for at least a week. I go to the bathroom and wash it off in the sink. Maybe someone as experienced as Mum could fix it, but I couldn't. I run water over it, watching it run down the drain as a pink fluid.

Fred. I wonder if he'd ever lashed out in his anger like this. But then, in the Quidditch match when we'd both been forced to resign, he would've ripped Malfoy apart if Angelina, Alicia, and Katie hadn't been holding him back. I wonder if he'd ever foreseen this happening. Me hating him. Percy, possibly terminal. Mum, on the brink of suicide daily.

No, he couldn't have seen any of that. But he had to have known it would not go over well to learn he had fornicated and a son-a nephew-had been the result. I stare down at the red. It's still bleeding and shows no signs of stopping. With my good hand I find a box of gauze in the medicine cabinet and wrap my hand up tightly.

I go through the rest of the closet and find eight other sets of matching jumpers, all labeled with our names or letters. I don't remember bringing them here after his death, but it's possible one of the others had done it. I feel tears spring to my eyes every time I look at one. Fred and I had always made sure our clothes had corresponded. I cram them all into my suitcase and leave as quick as I can. I head to the post office and write a letter to January, asking her to meet me on Sunday at the cafe and another for Diagon Alley. I tie them to the owl and watch it go before Apparating to the Burrow.

Ron glances up. "Oh," he says. "Hey." He sniffles and wipes his nose.

"Where are they?" I demand, looking around. No one else was to be seen.

"Hospital. They're moving Percy early. He started coughing blood again." He sniffles again, and suddenly I understand why.

"Why are you here?"

"Don't want to go," he mumbles. Because there's the possibility he might see another brother die. I shut my eyes.

"Where are they moving him?"

"Somewhere in Albania. There's a huge wizard hospital there."

I sigh. "Is he dying?" I'm dreading the answer.

There's a huge pause. "I don't know," he says at last.

Percy can't die. Despite all the teasing Fred and I had given him, he can't. He needs to hang on. I don't want to go to another funeral within three months of the last. I don't want to see another burial. I don't want to have to pick out anymore headstones. I run upstairs like a coward and slam the door of my room shut.

Oliver was right. Life is shit.


End file.
